THE  NINE  SWORDS 
OF  MORALES 

GEORGE  HOMER  MEYER 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 


The 
Nine  Swords  of  Morales 


The  Story  of 
An    Old-time    California    Feud 


BY 
GEORGE  HOMER  MEYER 


PHILADELPHIA 
HENRY  ALTEMUS  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1905, 

By  HENRY  ALTEMUS 

Published  October,  1905 


To 
THE  BEAUTIFUL  LAND  OF  SONOMA, 

In  memory  of  boyhood  days,  of  friends  there,  living  and  dead, 
I  dedicate  these  imaginings  of  what  might  have  been 
in  the  old,  old  days,  amid  scenes  and  sur 
roundings   which  have   ever  seemed 
to  me  fit  home  for  Romance. 

G.  H.  M. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I  pAGE 

TELLING   OF  AN  AMBUSCADE  ON  THE  SANTA  ROSA  PLAINS, 
OF  A  SUMMONS,  AND  A  PARTING 1 

CHAPTER  TI 

WHICH  TELLS  OF  THE  WARNING  THAT  CAME  LATE,  AND  OF 
THE  RIDING  FORTH  OF  THE  NINE  SWORDS 9 

CHAPTER  III 

How  MANUEL  DE  GUERRA  MET  A  FRIENDLY  FOE,  AND  EN 
COUNTERED  AND  OVERCAME  A  TEMPTATION 14 

CHAPTER  IV 

OF  THE  NlGHT-RlDER  WHO  SOUGHT  TO  STAY  MANUEL,  AND 
OTHER  CHANCES  OF  THE  WAY 19 

CHAPTER  V 

THE  RACE  is  NOT  ALWAYS  TO  THE  STRONG,  BUT  IT  SOME 
TIMES  is  TO  THE  SWIFT 22 

CHAPTER  VI 

Ix  WHICH  MANUEL  LEARNS  THAT  IT  is  NOT  ADVISABLE  TO 
TRIUMPH  UNTIL  WELL  OUT  OF  THE  WOODS     ....       26 

CHAPTER  VII 

IN  WHICH   MANUEL   FINDS  HIMSELF   PARTICIPATING   IN   A 
HUNT  —  BUT  NOT  AS  THE  HUNTER 32 

CHAPTER  VIII 

TELLING   OF   A   STRANGE   WOODLAND  POTENTATE   OF  OLDEN 
TIME  AND  THE  RECEPTION  HE  GAVE  MANUEL  DE  GUERRA      41 

CHAPTER  IX 

IN  WHICH  MANUEL  REACHES  A  LANDMARK  IN  HIS  JOURNEY 

AND  ENCOUNTERS  THE  THREE  IRON  MEN 49 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  X 

TELLING  OF  AN  ODD  MEETING  ON  THE  LAGUNA  SHORE,  AND  OF 
WHAT  CAME  OF  IT  ...........  57 

CHAPTER  XI 

THE  STRUGGLE  IN  THE  DARK  AT  THE  FORD,  AND  THE  COMING 
OF  THE  NINE  SWORDS 64 

CHAPTER  XII 

THE  SUIT  THAT  WAS  PLEADED  IN  VAIN  AT  THE  CASA  RIVAS. 
AND  THE  BLACK  FALSEHOOD  THAT  FOLLOWED  ...  73 

CHAPTER  XIII 

How  MANUEL  DE  GUERRA  KEPT  HIS  TRYST,  WITH  THE  AID 
OF  THE  NINE  SWORDS  .  . 81 

CHAPTER  XIV 

How  MANUEL  PASSED  THROUGH  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE 
SHADOW,  AND  THE  DEEDS  THAT  WERE  DONE  BY  HIS  FRIEND. 
HERRERA 87 

CHAPTER  XV 

WHICH  TELLS  OF  "  HERRERA'S  RAID."  AND  OF  THE  WEDDING- 
GIFT  FRANCISCO  BROUGHT  TO  MANUEL 95 

CHAPTER  XVI 

-Or  THE  UNEXPECTED  GUEST  WHOSE  NEWS  BID  FAIR  TO  DIS 
TURB  AND  DELAY  A  WEDDING 103 

CHAPTER  XVII 

TELLING  How  FRANCISCO  HERRERA  CAME,  AN  UNBIDDEN 
GUEST,  TO  THE  CASA  RIVAS  1  .  .  .  .  ...  .  110 

CHAPTER  XVIII 

TELLING  OF  A  GREAT  SORROW  AND  A  GREATER  JOY,  AND  OF 
SOMETHING  THAT  CAME  AFTER  .  .  .  ..  .  .  .  121 

CHAPTER  XIX 

IN  WHICH  OCCURS  AN  ESCAPE,  ALSO  A  CAPTURE,  AN  ACCUSA 
TION,  AND  AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  RETURN 133 

CHAPTER  XX 
How  FRANCISCO  HERRERA  FOUND  FRIENDS  IN  NEED  IN  THE 

MIDST    OF    THOSE    HE    HAD    COUNTED    FOES       .        .       .       .       .       140 


CONTENTS  ix 

CHAPTER  XXI 

PACiE 

OF  THE  AMBUSCADE  IN  THE  WILLOWS.  AND  THE  NINE  GOOD 
REASONS  WHY  IT  DID  NOT  RESULT  AS  WAS  ANTICIPATED     .     154 

CHAPTER  XXII 

TELLING  OF  THE  SECOND  NIGHT-RIDE  OF  FRANCISCO  HERREBA 
IN  HOSTILE  TERRITORY,  AND  HOW  IT  ENDED       ....     1G4 

CHAPTER  XXIII 

Two  WAYLAYERS  OF  THE  DARK,  AND  WHAT  IT  WAS  THAT 
DISTURBED  THEM  AT  THEIR  WORK 1G9 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

HOW  THE  GONZALES  LEARNED  THAT  FRANCISCO  HERRERA's 
FRIENDS  COULD  DO  MORE  THAN  MOURN 170 

CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  SHOCK  AND  THE  GRIEF  THAT  RAMON  GONZALES  BROUGHT 
TO  HIS  FRIENDS  AT  THE  CAS  A  RIVAS.     .     ...     ....     185 

CHAPTER  XXVI 

OF  THE  WOOING  OF  SANCHO  GONZALES,  AND  THE  OMEN  THAT 
DARKENED  ITS  BEGINNING 190 

CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  STRANGE  GUESTS  WHO  CAME  UNINVITED,  BUT  NOT  UN 
WELCOME,  TO  THE  SECOND  RIVAS  WEDDING     .      .     .     .     .     199 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 

How  PEPE  THE  INDIAN,  FRIEND  OF  THE  MORALES,  BECAUSE 
OF  THAT  FRIENDSHIP  CAME  UPON  EVIL  FORTUNE     ...     .     209 

CHAPTER  XXIX 

A  FRIEND  IN  NEED  FOR  PEPE  THE  FAITHFUL,  AND  A  SURPRISE 
FOR  THE  CAMP  OF  HIS  FOES     .     .     .     .     .     ...     .     .     216 

CHAPTER  XXX 

IN  WHICH  PEPE'S  CAPTORS  FIND  THEMSELVES  POSSESSED  OF 
ANOTHER  AND  MUCH  MORE  TROUBLESOME  PRISONER     .      .     221 

CHAPTER  XXXI 

WHICH  TELLS  How  YOUNG  DIEGO  MORALES  SEES  FIT  TO  VEN 
TURE  HIMSELF  WITHIN  THE  LION'S  DEN   .  227 


x  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XXXII  PAGE 

How  DIEGO,  THE  RECKLESS,  FINDS  STRANGE  COMPANY  IN  THE 
STRONGHOLD  OF  HIS  FOES 230 

CHAPTER  XXXIII 

DIEGO   MORALES  RIDES   AWAY  FROM   THE  CASA   GONZALES 
WITHOUT  HIS  BROTHER,  AND  YET  NOT  ALONE     ....     244 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 

TELLING  OF  PERILS  AND  ALSO  OF  CERTAIN  STRANGE  EXPERI 
ENCES  WHICH  BEFELL  DIEGO  ON  THE  WAY 249 

CHAPTER  XXXV 

A  GREAT  SURPRISE  AND  A  GREATER  JOY  COME  TO  DIEGO 
MORALES  —  AND  THE  STORY  ENDS 257 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 


CHAPTER  I 

TELLING     OF     AN     AMBUSCADE     ON     THE     SANTA     ROSA 
PLAINS,  OF  A  SUMMONS,  AND  A  PARTING 

AGAIN  Pepe,  the  Indian,  caught  a  swift 
glimpse  of  arms  and  dark,  shaded  faces 
close  at  hand,  and  this  time  he  pulled  his  pony  up 
in  its  tracks. 

But  even  with  such  a  confirmation  of  his  former 
fears  he  did  not  fail  to  exercise  that  caution  and 
cunning  which  had  all  his  life  been  natural  to  him. 
His  act  in  checking  the  pony  was  half  involun 
tary,  but  all  that  followed  was  calculation. 

Leisurely  he  dismounted,  and  it  was  with  every 
appearance  of  naturalness  that  he  proceeded  to 
remedy  an  imaginary  break  in  the  rawhide  trap 
pings  of  his  shaggy  steed.  He  noted  that  those 
besetting  his  path  were  no  longer  to  be  seen,  but 
no  one  could  have  observed  that  he  gave  feven  a 
glance  toward  the  place  of  their  concealment. 
What  he  wanted  now  was  a  chance  to  think. 

The  ambuscaders  were  not  watching  for  him. 
That  was  certain.  Otherwise,  why  still  hide? 
For  whom,  then,  did  they  wait?  Don  Manuel,  of 


2      TJEIE.  NINE:  8WQRDS  OF  MORALES 

course:;. he ;:wfeqm  Pepe  fed  been  sent  to  summon; 
Don  Manuel',  wlio  must  even  now  be  making  ready 
to  follow  in  his  trail.  That  young  man  was  in 
danger.  Could  he  not  go  back  and  warn  him? 
Perhaps.  But  it  would  not  do  to  turn  here  and 
now.  They  would  see  through  that  in  an  instant. 
A  shot  from  a  carbine,  even  the  throw  of  a  lariat, 
and  the  days  of  his  slothful,  good-natured  exist 
ence  would  be  ended. 

Decidedly,  that  would  not  do.  He  must  pre 
tend  to  be  still  ignorant  of  their  presence.  He 
must  go  on  until  some  irregularity  in  the  ground, 
some  concealing  feature  in  the  landscape,  should 
afford  him  opportunity  for  an  unsuspected  de 
tour.  Already  in  view,  and  but  a  few  minutes' 
ride  distant,  was  a  belt  of  willows,  mingled  with 
it  the  loftier  ash  and  alder,  and  white  oaks  hoary 
with  hanging  banners  of  moss.  This  the  Indian 
lad  knew  served  as  a  sort  of  natural  dividing-line 
between  that  more  northern  and  narrower  por 
tion  of  the  Santa  Rosa  Plains  whereon  he  was 
and  the  wide-spreading  expanse  which  lay  farther 
to  the  southward.  As  earnestly  as  was  possible 
with  one  of  his  sluggish  temperament,  he  hoped 
that  those  now  spying  upon  him  might  not  follow 
him  thither,  for  there,  he  knew,  lay  his  best  chance 
for  an  unobserved  change  of  course.  There,  too, 
as  he  could  not  but  realize,  were  excellent  oppor 
tunities  for  another  ambuscade,  but  of  this  he 
must  take  the  chance.  In  any  case,  the  early- 
setting  December  sun  was  already  sinking  out  of 
sight  behind  the  redwood-covered  hills  to  the 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES      3 

westward,  and  twilight,  with  its  possibilities  of 
concealment,  was  not  far  distant. 

So,  still  without  another  glance  toward  the  am 
buscade,  Pepe  mounted  his  pony  again  and  rode 
carelessly  on  to  the  southward. 

And,  as  it  chanced,  it  was  just  at  this  moment 
that  young  Manuel  de  Gruerra  was  receiving  the 
packet  that  Pepe  had  brought  for  him  to  the  Ha 
cienda  Morales.  Pepe  had  not  stayed  to  transfer 
it  personally,  but  had  left  it  to  be  delivered  when 
Manuel  should  return  from  the  ride  upon  which 
he  had  gone  out  with  that  brave  troop  of  broth 
ers,  his  hosts. 

Nine  sons  had  old  Don  Sancho  Morales  seen 
grow  to  manhood  or  vigorous  youth  before  he 
closed  his  eyes  for  the  last  time,  and  despite  the 
daring  and  even  reckless  character  of  their  lives, 
death  had  not  since  claimed  one  of  the  dashing 
brothers.  Now,  grown  men  all,  handsome,  stately, 
and  tall,  strong  of  arm,  perfect  riders,  and  prompt 
for  every  deed  that  promised  excitement  or  ad 
venture,  they  were  known  far  and  wide  through 
out  the  Sonoma  valleys  and  plains  as  * '  The  Nine 
Swords  of  Morales." 

Every  one  of  them  had  been  taught  to  fence 
from  the  time  he  was  strong  enough  to  wield  a 
Mexican  saber,  and  to  each  old  Don  Sancho  had 
given  for  his  own  one  of  those  deadly  weapons  as 
soon  as  he  was  satisfied  with  the  skill  of  the  re 
cipient.  In  those  old  days  every  ranchero  who 
owned  a  sword  wore  it  when  he  rode  abroad,  and 
there  was  no  fear,  therefore,  of  the  brothers  be 
ing  deemed  in  masquerade. 


4      THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

Old  Don  Sancho  left  yet  another  child,  Dolores, 
now  grown  tall  and  beautiful,  and  the  soft  luster 
of  whose  dark  eyes — darker  for  the  great  masses 
of  clustering  hair  which,  unbound,  would  have 
streamed  to  her  feet — lent  to  the  blending  curves 
of  her  face  an  expression  of  such  gentleness  and 
sweetness  as  no  human  being  might  note  unmoved. 
Sole  female  of  the  Morales  name  and  line  was 
she,  for  her  mother  had  long  preceded  her  father 
to  the  grave.  It  was  she  who,  supported  by  a 
half-dozen  servants  of  mixed  Indian  and  Mexican 
blood,  held  gently  despotic  sway  in  the  hacienda 
on  the  banks  of  Russian  River — the  "casa" 
standing  then  almost  upon  what  is  now  the  site 
of  Healdsburg.  It  was  to  her,  in  the  absence  of 
the  men  of  the  household,  that  Pepe,  the  Indian, 
had  intrusted  the  message  which  he  bore  to  Man 
uel.  It  was  she  who  gave  the  note  into  the  hands 
of  her  guest  when  he  returned  from  his  ride  with 
her  brothers. 

And  it  was  to  her,  standing  on  the  porch,  in  the 
warm,  damp  dusk  of  that  winter  evening,  that 
Manuel  came  a  little  later,  still  with  his  letter  in 
his  hand,  and  still,  as  she  noted  in  the  first  mo 
ment  of  his  approach,  booted  and  spurred. 

"  Donna  Dolores, "  he  said,  speaking  with  a 
strange  tone  of  repressed  feeling,  "I  am  come 
to  bid  you  adios." 

' '  Adios  ?     You  are  going  ? ' ' 

"Immediately,  Donna  Dolores.  I  am  sum 
moned  home  to  my  foster  father,  and  this — this 
He  seemed  to  struggle  with  himself. 
"This  is  the  summons/' 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES       5 

As  lie  spoke  he  handed  her  the  note,  which  she 
received  with  hesitation. 

"Am  I  to  read?"  she  said  doubtingly. 

"If  you  will  be  so  kind,  Donna  Dolores.     It 
will  lighten  the  weight   of  what  I   have   to  tell 
•you." 

And  Dolores  read,  silently,  swiftly,  and,  as  the 
meaning  of  the  words  came  to  her,  with  a  strange 
catching  in  her  chest. 

It  was  a  note  signed  "Pancha  Rivas,"  and  it 
began  and  ended  very  abruptly: 

"You  have  been  absent  long,  and  we  hear  noth 
ing  of  your  return.  I  care  not  to  be  the  sport  of 
any  man's  whims,  yet  would  I  not  condemn  you 
without  cause.  My  father  has  bidden  friends 
from  far  and  near  to  my  birthday  feast.  Are 
you  alone  to  be  absent?  You  have  until  the  last 
hour  of  the  day  to  come.  If  you  are  not  here 
then  I  shall  know  that  you  mean  to  be  faithless, 
and  shall  hold  myself  free." 

Manuel  knew  that  she  had  finished,  but  he 
waited  to  lift  his  eyes  from  the  ground  until  she 
should  speak.  When  she  did  so  her  words  were 
calmly  uttered,  but  the  voice  was  not  that  which 
was  usual  to  her. 

"And  you  are  going?" 

"I  am  going,  Donna  Dolores." 

It  seemed  as  if  she  strove  with  herself  before 
she  spoke  again.  Then  she  said: 

"It  is  right  that  you  should  go,  and  at  once. 
It  is  she  you  are  to  marry.  It  is  she  whom  you — 
love. ' ' 


6      THE  NINE  SWOBDS  OF  MORALES 

Now  lie  raised  his  gloomy  eyes  and  spoke  with 
something  of  sudden  passion: 

"I  will  go  to  her — yes.  She  is  the  woman  I 
am  pledged  to  marry.  She  is  not  the  woman  I 
love — not  now." 

"But  you  loved  her  once?" 

"I  was  taught  that  she  loved  me.  I  had  grown 
up  with  her,  seeing  her  daily — my  foster  father's 
child.  He  first  spoke  of  our  marriage.  She  was 
bright  and  fair,  pleasant  to  see  and  to  speak  with. 
The  day  would  some  time  come  when  a  mistress 
as  well  as  a  master  would  he  needed  for  the 
wealth  my  dead  father  left  me.  I  was  content 
that  she,  so  fair  and  winsome,  should  take  that 
place.  Yes,  I  was  content — then." 

"And — and  now!" 

The  words  were  nothing  more  than  a  whisper, 
but  something  in  them  seemed  at  once  to  break 
away  the  restraint  with  which  he  had  crushed 
down  the  passion  in  his  heart.  In  an  instant  he 
was  on  his  knees  at  Dolores'  feet,  not  daring,  as 
it  seemed,  to  touch  even  the  hem  of  her  dress  with 
his  trembling  hands,  but  looking  up  into  her  face 
with  eyes  of  misery  and  longing. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "now?  Oh,  Dolores,  Dolores! 
Now  I  wish  that  I  were  dead ! ' ' 

Something  of  hardness  had  seemed  to  be  gather 
ing  in  her  fair  white  face,  but  it  was  all  gone  now. 
Half  unconsciously  she  placed  her  hand  gently, 
caressingly,  on  his  dark,  clustering  hair,  and  in 
her  eyes  and  the  tones  of  her  voice  was  a  mea 
sureless  pity. 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES      7 

"Ah,  do  not  say  that,"  she  murmured. 
"Honor  before  all." 

"But,  oh,  why  was  I  so  mad!  Why  did  I 
fling  away  all  so  lightly?  Dolores,  Dolores!"  he 
added,  and  his  voice  grew  imploring,  ' 'is  there  no 
hope  for  me!  Is  it  too  late?" 

"Too  late  for  all  but  honor,  Manuel." 

He  rose  slowly,  once  more  grave  and  calm,  but 
his  face  was  pale  and  set. 

"You  are  right,"  he  said,  "and  I  must  go. 
Donna  Dolores,  good-bye." 

She  gave  him  her  hand,  and  for  a  moment  he 
held  it  silently,  gazing  the  while  into  her  calm 
face.  Then  once  more  a  wave  of  passionate,  de 
spairing  longing  thrilled  through  him,  and  he 
pressed  the  soft  hand  madly  to  his  lips  and  his 
breast,  murmuring  inarticulate  words. 

And  now  the  contagion  of  his  passion  seemed 
to  break  through  the  strong  barrier  of  her  own 
reserve.  She  bent  over  him,  for  again  he  had 
flung  himself  down  before  her,  stooping  until  her 
lips  were  almost  at  his  ear. 

"Manuel,  Manuel!"  she  whispered;  "you  must 
go — yes,  you  must  go!  Forget  not  your  faith. 
Ride — ride,  as  if  more  than  life  depended  on  your 
speed !  Strive  as  never  you  have  striven  yet  to 
do  this  girl's  strange  bidding.  But,  oh,  Manuel, 
Manuel!  If — if  it  should  be  that  all  goes  for 
naught — that  heaven  is  not  with  you  in  this — if 
fate  send  that  you  are  too  late — then,  oh,  Manuel ! 
then  come  back  to  us — to  me. ' ' 

As  though  not  daring  to  look  into  her  face,  even 
in  the  growing  dusk,  he  kept  his  eyes  bent  upon 


8      THE  NINE  SWORDS  OE  MORALES 

the  earth,  but  he  felt  gropingly  above  his  head, 
once  more  seeking  her  hands.  She  drew  them 
shyly  away,  when  he  had  scarcely  touched  them 
with  his  own,  and  then  he  lifted  a  fold  of  her  dress 
and  pressed  it  to  his  lips.  A  moment  after,  his 
step  sounded  on  the  path  leading  to  the  corral, 
and  while  she  still  lingered  she  heard  a  jingle  of 
spur-bells  and  bridle-chains,  and  a  soft  fall  of 
hoofs  upon  the  turf.  Only  for  a  moment.  Then 
the  sounds  died  away  in  the  dusky  distance. 


CHAPTER  II 

WHICH    TELLS    OF    THE    WARNING    THAT    CAME    LATE, 
AND  OF  THE  RIDING  FORTH  OF  THE  NINE  SWORDS 

THE  world  is  filled  with  women  pure  and  good, 
but  lest,  perhaps,  it  might  become  too 
nearly  like  unto  the  true  home  of  angels,  it  is 
given  to  few,  indeed,  to  be  more  wholly  white- 
souled,  more  utterly  free  from  every  weakness 
of  self,  than  was  this  gentle  sister  of  the  nine 
great  sons  of  Morales.  Yet  for  one  moment, 
when  the  last  sound  of  the  retreating  hoofs  of 
Manuel's  steed  had  died  away,  and  there  grew  in 
her  mind  the  numbing  thought  of  how  much  of 
loss  and  loneliness  this  parting  meant,  the  heart 
in  her  breast  cried  out  in  pain  that  was  bitter  and 
rebellious.  For  one  moment — one  only — she 
struggled  with  a  jealous  sense  of  wrong,  of  loss 
and  suffering  which  sent  tears  to  her  eyes  and 
quivering  hands  to  her  white  throat — and  then, 
in  an  instant,  all  seemed  ended,  and  in  her  heart 
remained  w'oe,  indeed,  but  no  longer  thought  of 
bitterness. 

She  turned  to  re-enter  the  house — and  all  but 
cried  out  as  she  did  so,  for  a  tall,  almost  gigantic, 
man  stood  at  her  elbow.  But  in  an  instant  she 
saw  that  it  was  her  eldest  brother,  Carlos  Mor- 

9 


10     THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

ales,  like  all  of  his  brethren  still  a  bachelor, 
though  he  would  never  again  see  his  thirty-fifth 
year. 

A  sudden  something,  almost  of  fear,  seized 
Dolores,  even  as  she  recognized  the  man  who 
loved  her,  as  she  knew  well,  above  everything  on 
earth.  Could  he  have  heard  ? 

It  seemed  that  he  divined  the  unspoken  ques 
tion,  for  he  answered  it,  very  quietly: 

"Yes,  I  was  there — in  the  rose-bushes.  I  could 
not  get  out,  before  he  began  his  confidences.  Then 
I  had  to  remain,  or  come  forth  in  the  midst  of  it 
an." 

"Then  you  know — " 

He  drew  the  drooping  head  tenderly  against 
his  broad  breast. 

"I  know  that  I  have  a  sweet  and  lovely  sister, 
and  that  I  have  just  missed  gaining  a  new  and 
gallant  brother.  That  is  all.  Look  your  fate — 
your  fate  and  his — firmly  in  the  face  for  once, 
Dolores,  mi  querida,  then  turn  from  it  forever. 
He  is  a  man  and  a  caballero,  my  sister.  But  he 
has  gone,  and  it  is  better  so." 

As  they  turned  to  enter  the  house  Dolores  fan 
cied  she  noted  a  sudden  movement  of  her  brother's 
hand  toward  his  breast,  and  it  seemed  that  some 
thing  glittered  in  his  grasp.  She  stopped,  gazing 
with  startled  question  into  his  face. 

Again  he  read  her  thought,  and  answered — 
this  strange  man — with  the  old  directness : 

"Yes/'  he  said  quietly.  "There  was  a  mo 
ment  when  I  feared  to  learn  that  this  guest  of 
ours  had  sought  to  make  a  plaything  of  my  sister's 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     11 

heart.  I  would  not  have  liked  to  hear  that,  Do 
lores." 

The  girl  shuddered,  but  clung  more  closely  to 
his  arm,  and  again  they  moved  toward  the  open 
doorway. 

Yet  once  more  were  their  steps  arrested. 

"Listen!"  said  Dolores. 

Faint  from  the  distance  came  the  soft  pounding 
of  unshod  hoofs.  A  look,  half  of  hope,  half  of 
dread,  leaped  into  Dolores'  face.  Quickly  she 
spoke,  but  only  to  break  off  at  the  third  word : 

"That  is  not—" 

"De  Guerra  returning?  No.  That  is  never 
his  horse." 

And  that  Dolores  already  knew.  Could  she  not 
tell  the  footfalls  of  Manuel's  steed  as  well  as  the 
light,  swift  tread  of  his  rider? 

But  the  sound  to  which  they  listened  came 
steadily  nearer,  and  before  many  moments  Pepe, 
the  Indian,  rode  sedately  into  the  flood  of  light 
which  streamed  from  the  door. 

"Manuel?"  he  said  quietly.  "Don  Manuel  de 
Guerra?" 

Carlos  pointed  southward. 

"He  is  far  away  by  this,"  he  said.  "Seek  him 
to-morrow  on  the  Arroyo  Santa  Rosa  with  Don 
Pedro  Rivas." 

"Gone?"  said  Pepe.  "That  is  bad — very 
bad." 

Sudden  fear  awoke  in  Dolores'  breast,  and  she 
moved  forward. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked  hurriedly.  "What 
is  wrong?" 


12     THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

Then  Pepe,  in  his  brief  Indian  fashion,  told 
them  of  the  ambuscade  and  of  his  fears  that  it 
had  been  set  for  Manuel. 

An  inarticulate  cry  escaped  Dolores,  and  she 
turned  her  white  face  and  fear-lit  eyes  to  Carlos. 
But  he  did  not  stay  to  answer  or  console.  Instead, 
he  stepped  swiftly  into  the  great  living-room  of 
the  casa,  strewn  with  rugs  and  Indian  mats,  and 
with  walls  thickly  set  with  antlers  and  other  tro 
phies  of  the  chase.  A  great  array  of  arms  of  al 
most  every  kind  hung  there,  also,  and  amid  them 
the  long  sabers  which  had  helped  to  give  a  name 
to  "  The  Nine  Swords  of  Morales." 

One  of  these  Carlos  took  down  and  hung  the 
trappings  about  him. 

"Call  the  others,"  he  said  briefly. 

Some  one  did  as  he  said,  whether  a  servant  of 
the  household  or  Dolores  herself,  the  latter  could 
afterward  scarcely  have  told.  What  she  did  re 
member  was  that  the  great  room  had  seemed  to 
suddenly  fill  with  men,  that  all  about  her  were  the 
tall  forms  of  her  splendid  brothers,  while  the 
jingle  of  spurs  and  the  clank  of  steel  rose  above 
and  almost  drowned  the  few  brief  words  of  direc 
tion  which  Carlos  was  giving  to  his  major-domo 
and  the  retainers  whom  he  was  to  leave  as  a  guard 
for  the  hacienda.  She  remembered,  too,  passing 
out  with  the  rest  a  moment  later  to  where  nine 
wiry  steeds  pranced  and  struggled  in  the  hands 
of  those  who  held  them,  and  standing  by  while 
every  man  sprang  into  his  saddle.  Then,  as  the 
others  swung  away  from  the  house,  Carlos  bent 
low  to  her  ear. 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     13 

"Dolores,"  he  whispered  tenderly,  "do  not 
grieve.  We  will  find  him,  we  will  save  him,  never 
fear.  But,  tell  me,  mi  querida,  shall  we  guard 
him  safely  to  his  journey's  end,  or  shall  we  bring 
him  back — to  you!" 

For  an  instant  Dolores  hid  her  face  against  her 
brother's  hand,  and  he  felt  her  tremble.  Then 
she  drew  her  head  back  and  met  his  eyes  bravely, 
though  her  face  was  drawn  and  white. 

"Carlos,"  she  said,  "save  his  life  and  his  honor 
both.  Let  him  keep  his  word. ' ' 

Carlos  kissed  her,  proudly,  fondly. 

"God's  blessing  on  thee,  heart  of  my  heart!" 
he  murmured  in  his  soft  native  tongue.  "Now, 
good-bye. ' ' 

Another  moment,  and  he  had  overtaken  the 
others  and  assumed,  as  was  his  right,  his  place 
in  the  van.  No  servants  of  the  estate  were  with 
them,  for  it  had  for  years  been  the  preference  of 
the  Nine  Swords  of  Morales  to  ride  only  with 
each  other.  Perhaps  it  was  the  name  in  which 
all,  from  the  youngest  to  the  eldest,  took  a  strong, 
though  unuttered,  pride  that  so  inclined  them. 

There  had  been  no  word  of  discussion  as  to  the 
expedition.  When  Carlos  had  told  them  where 
they  were  going,  and  why,  he  had  covered  the 
subject  completely  with  one  brief  speech: 

"The  guest  of  our  house  is  our  charge  until  he 
passes  beneath  the  roof  of  another." 

So  the  Nine  Swords  of  Morales  sped  southward 
to  save  the  man  who  had  shared  their  shelter  and 
eaten  of  their  bread  and  so  made  himself  a  brother 
of  their  race. 


CHAPTER  III 

HOW    MANUEL  DE   GUEREA  MET   A   FRIENDLY   FOE,   AND 
ENCOUNTERED    AND    OVERCAME    A    TEMPTATION 

MEANWHILE  it  so  chanced  that  Manuel 
lacked  not  for  warning  of  the  snare  be 
fore  him.  Pepe.  owing  to  the  darkness  and  his 
wide  detour,  had  missed  him,  but  another  had  his 
interest  at  heart. 

Out  of  the  gloom,  as  he  dashed  onward,  sud 
denly  loomed  dimly  before  him  a  steed  and  rider, 
and  a  challenging  voice  sounded  through  the  dark : 

' < Halt!     Who  goes?" 

"De  Guerra,"  answered  Manuel  boldly,  for  he 
feared  no  man,  nor  did  he  think  of  any  one  at  that 
moment  who  should  seek  to  stay  him  on  his  road. 

"As  I  feared,"  said  the  voice  again,  for  little 
of  the  speaker  could  be  seen,  the  less  from  the  fact 
that,  as  he  spoke,  the  stranger  drew  his  cloak  so 
closely  about  him  as  to  render  both  form  and  face 
indistinguishable. 

' '  You  feared  ? ' '  said  Manuel.     ' '  And  why  1 ' ' 

"That  I  have  not  time  to  explain,"  said  the 
stranger.  "I  came  but  to  give  you  a  word  of 
warning.  Go  back." 

"Go  back?" 

"Yes — if  you  would  live  till  morning." 

14 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    15 

Manuel's  laugh  rang  out — mirthful,  yet  sar 
castic. 

"Truly,  my  unknown  friend,  you  deserve  my 
thanks.  You  have  given  me  news.  But  before 
you  go  further,  tell  me  who  is  the  mortal  enemy 
who  seeks  the  life  of  Manuel  de  Guerra." 

He  laughed  again  at  the  absurdity  of  his  own 
suggestion,  but  the  stranger  did  not  laugh.  In 
stead  he  spurred  closer  and  spoke  with  an  earnest 
ness  that  compelled  attention  and  gravity. 

"Manuel,  do  not  make  a  jest  of  this.  I  have 
risked  more  than  you  think  to  give  you  warning. 
Half  a  traitor  am  I  that  I  do  so,  yet  I  regret  it 
not.  But  do  not  make  my  effort  useless.  There 
is  a  reason  why  some  would  not  have  you  reach 
the  Rivas  Rancho  to-night,  and  they  do  not  intend 
you  shall.  To-morrow  you  may  ride  in  safety, 
but  to  go  forward  to-night  is  to  meet  those  who 
will  stop  you,  though  they  take  your  life  in  doing 
so." 

Manuel  could  not  but  believe,  and  now  his  anger 
rose. 

"And  how  know  you  the  plan  of  these  treacher 
ous  dogs?"  he  demanded. 

"Because,"  answered  the  other,  with  perfect 
equanimity,  '  i  I  am  one  of  them. ' ' 

Then  Manuel  laughed  again,  in  spite  of  himself, 
and  he  bent  forward  and  grasped  the  stranger's- 
hand. 

"That  you  are  not,"  he  said  heartily,  "even 
though  you  chance  to  be  in  their  company.  You 
hide  your  face  from  me,  but  there  is  something  in 
your  voice  that  I  have  heard  before,  and  in  any 


16    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

case  I  know  you  for  a  friend.  But  I  cannot  take 
your  warning,  though  I  thank  you  for  it.  Go  for 
ward  I  must,  whatever  happens." 

"Wait  till  to-morrow. " 

"No.  There  is  a  reason  why  I  must  reach  the 
Santa  Rosa  this  night,  and  that  within  the  next 
five  hours." 

"Yes,  I  know;  but  I  know,  too,  that  there  is  a 
reason  why  you  should  not.  I  beg  you  to  go 
back." 

For  just  one  moment,  mingling  with  half- 
formed  conjectures  as  to  the  plots  of  his  unknown 
enemies,  there  rose  in  Manuel's  mind  a  tempta 
tion.  Should  he  not  go  back?  Before  was  peril 
— for  that  he  cared  little — but  beyond,  should  he 
pass  it  by,  lay  only  the  cold  reward  of  duty  done, 
the  smiles  and  the  hand  of  one  whom  he  knew 
now  he  had  never  loved,  and  even  whose  love  for 
him  there  was  something  in  the  cold  sternness  of 
her  message  which  bade  him  doubt.  Behind  him, 
within  the  walls  he  had  so  lately  quitted — ah, 
there  was  friendship,  brotherhood,  and — yes,  why 
should  he  drive  the  sweetness  of  the  thought  from 
his  mind? — a  love  that  a  man  might  die  for. 
Could  he  not  go  back? 

But  only  for  an  instant  did  the  dream — for  he 
knew  it  was  only  that — hold  sway  in  his  soul. 
Driving  it  out  came  the  knowledge  that  it  was  not 
thus  she  would  have  him  think — she  nor  his  dead 
and  gone  father,  whose  name  yet  sounded  on 
men's  tongues  when  they  spoke  of  honor  and 
truth  and  latter-day  chivalry.  And  once  more  he 
answered,  gravely  and  calmly : 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     17 

"No,  I  cannot  go  back.  But  if  you  will  add  to 
your  kindness,  tell  me  where  my  enemies  He,  and 
T,  who  know  every  rood  of  these  plains,  should 
easily  avoid  them." 

His  unknown  friend  shook  his  head. 

''That  would  be  impossible.  They  have  a  line 
of  watchers  from  the  Sonoma  Mountains  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Laguna  Santa  Rosa.  And  their 
patrols  ride  constantly  between.  I—  '  and  here 
the  stranger  laughed  grimly — "am  one  of  these 
patrols,  though  somewhat  distant  from  my  proper 
station. ' ' 

Manuel  laughed,  too,  with  a  gay  light-hearted- 
ness  for  which,  though  he  perhaps  did  not  himself 
realize  it,  the  very  peril  surrounding  him  was 
chiefly  responsible. 

* '  Caramba ! ' '  he  muttered  profanely,  but  only 
half  aloud;  "there  must  be  an  army.  What 
mighty  chieftain  have  we  here  that  I  have  of 
fended.  By  heaven ! ' '  he  added,  louder  and  more 
fiercely  now;  "only  Gonzales  could  muster  such 
a  throng — Gonzales,  who  comes  so  often  to  the 
Rivas  Rancho.  The  dog!  Ah,  I  begin  to  see!" 

"And  you  will  go  back?"  said  the  stranger, 
almost  beseechingly. 

"Go  back,  will  I?  No!"  growled  Manuel 
through  his  teeth.  l '  They  stretch  from  the  moun 
tains  to  the  water,  do  they?  Thank  you  for  that, 
friend,  but  their  line  will  have  to  be  longer  than 
that  to  stop  me.  But  good-bye  to  you  now,  and 
may  the  day  come  when  I  can  repay  your  service 
of  to-night." 

And  then  Manuel  turned  his  horse's  head,  set- 


18    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

tied  himself  in  the  saddle,  and  sped  away  in  the 
darkness  toward  the  west. 

"He  will  try  the  hills  on  the  further  shore  of 
the  Laguna,"  thought  the  other,  correctly  enough. 
"But  what  a  ride  for  a  night  like  this,  and  how, 
too,  will  he  cross  the  waters  ?" 

But  there  was  no  one  to  answer,  and  with  a 
muttered  curse  on  hot-headed  youths,  ambus 
cades,  and  all  sorts  of  treachery,  he  rode  away 
himself,  only  hoping  now  that  his  own  double- 
dealing  might  not  be  suspected. 


CHAPTER  IV 

OF  THE  NIGHT-RIDER  WHO  SOUGHT   TO  STAY  MANUEL, 
AND   OTHER   CHANCES   OF   THE   WAY 

MANUEL  realized  well  enough  the  difficulties 
of  the  route  he  had  now  chosen,  but  he  did 
not  regard  them  as  insurmountable.  He  knew 
all  the  cattle-paths  on  the  western  shore  of  the 
Laguna  Santa  Rosa  as  few  other  men  did  in  that 
old  day.  The  brawling  watercourse  in  later  time 
to  be  called  Mark  West.  Creek,  after  the  wander 
ing  English  sailor,  would  be  in  flood,  of  course, 
and  the  Laguna  itself  likewise.  But  the  horse 
beneath  him  was  trusty  and  stanch  and  had  swum 
with  him  on  his  back  before  now.  Why  should 
he  not  do  so  again  ?  Only  one  thing  worried  Man 
uel — the  question  of  time.  It  was  a  long  distance 
that  he  was  to  make,  and  he  had  to  be  at  the  Rivas 
Rancho  by  midnight  if  the  bidding  of  that  strange 
girl  who  held  his  troth,  though  not  his  heart,  was 
to  be  accomplished. 

So  he  bent  low  in  his  saddle,  and  talked  in  the 
ear  of  the  brave  horse  beneath  him  as  comrade 
would  to  comrade — and  indeed,  were  they  not 
such? — and  the  steel-sinewed  steed  seemed  to 
understand  all  that  was  required  of  him.  Manuel 
never  did  more  than  touch  his  side  with  the  heavy 

3  19 


20    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

spur  which  every  California!!  rider  wore,  and  even 
this  the  horse  did  not  wait  for  now.  Swiftly, 
splendidly,  sure-footed  as  an  antelope,  never  once 
making  a  misstep,  never  pausing  in  his  stride,  he 
dashed  onward,  the  spectral,  moss-hung  white 
oaks  racing  hy  him  in  the  gloom.  There  was  no 
underbrush,  and  for  this  Manuel  did  not  forget 
to  be  thankful. 

Miles  had  been  traversed,  and  he  was  begin 
ning  to  note  the  roar  of  the  swollen  stream  before 
him,  and  to  bestow  a  little  more  thought  than  he 
had  previously  done  upon  the  question  of  cross 
ing,  when  a  new  direction  was  given  to  his  mus 
ings. 

Dashing  forward  in  such  a  direction  as  to  inter 
cept  Manuel  in  his  course,  another  horseman 
sprang  suddenly  into  sight,  looking  almost  gigan 
tic  in  the  dimness  of  the  night.  In  little  more 
than  a  second  they  were  almost  upon  each  other. 

"Halt!  Who  goes?"  shouted  the  stranger, 
bending  forward  as  if  to  grasp  De  Guerra's  bri 
dle-rein. 

"The  man  you  are  looking  for,"  answered 
Manuel,  with  a  sort  of  grim  humor,  and  as  he 
spoke  swinging  his  horse  just  a  trifle  to  one  side. 

Now,  the  stranger's  best  plan  would  have  been 
to  draw  a  weapon,  or  at  least  to  have  made  use 
of  his  lariat.  But  he  chose  to  attempt  something 
shorter  and  simpler. 

Once  more  he  stooped  forward  to  seize  the 
bridle-rein,  and  Manuel,  not  deigning  to  draw 
knife  or  pistol,  simply  lifted  his  vigorous  young 
fist  and  brought  it  down  on  the  bent  head  with  a 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    21 

force  that  sent  the  would-be  captor  headlong  from 
the  saddle. 

The  man  lay  still,  and  Manuel,  though  he 
glanced  back,  did  not  stop  to  ascertain  whether 
he  were  living  or  dead. 

"One  of  Gonzales'  patrols  is  off  duty  for  a 
while  at  least,"  he  muttered  grimly,  as  he  sped  on. 

The  encounter  startled  but  did  not  alarm  him. 
It  seemed  evident,  taking  into  consideration  the 
nearness  of  the  torrent  he  was  to  cross,  that  the 
man  he  had  met  must  have  held  the  extreme  end 
of  Gonzales'  line.  He  blamed  himself  a  little  that 
he  had  not  so  shaped  his  course  as  to  strike  the 
stream  further  westward,  but  the  ground  was 
rougher  there,  and  the  prospects  discouraging. 
On  the  whole,  considering  that  he  had  come  safely 
through  the  encounter,  and  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  the  man  he  had  struck  down  was  not  likely 
to  give  an  alarm  for  some  time  to  come,  he  was 
inclined  to  believe  he  had  done  about  as  well  for 
himself  as  possible. 

While  coming  to  this  comforting  conclusion  he 
had  entered  the  strip  of  willow-dotted  lowland 
forming  the  approach  to  the  brawling  stream  he 
was  so  rapidly  nearing — and  at  once,  with  shout 
and  challenge,  from  the  darkness  on  either  side 
of  his  pathway,  half  a  score  of  dusky  horsemen 
thundered  forward  to  intercept  him. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    RACE    IS    NOT    ALWAYS    TO    THE    STRONG,    BUT    IT 
SOMETIMES  IS  TO  THE  SWIFT 

ONE  deep  mental  objurgation  Manuel  be 
stowed  upon  himself  for  his  vain  confi 
dence,  but  the  exigency  was  too  pressing  for  re 
grets  that  meant  any  waste  of  time.  Even  while 
he  condemned  his  own  folly  he  leaned  forward 
and  shouted  in  El  Zingaro 's  ear,  and  that  brave 
steed  seemed  at  once  to  flatten  to  the  earth  with 
the  sudden  and  tremendous  increase  in  his  stride. 
With  a  clash  and  a  clamor  of  oaths  the  waylayers 
dashed  together,  only  an  instant  too  late,  for  by 
a  mere  half-length  had  Zingaro  won.  Indeed, 
but  that  one  of  the  pursuers'  steeds  had  fallen 
headlong  with  his  rider  in  the  shock  of  the  col 
lision,  and  lay,  kicking  madly,  amid  the  stamping 
hoofs  of  the  disordered  group,  the  fugitive's  nar 
row  chance  would  scarcely  have  served.  A  quick 
throw  of  a  lariat  might  easily  have  rendered  his 
short  lead  abortive,  and,  looking  for  this,  Manuel 
lay  for  a  moment  flat  upon  Zingaro 's  neck,  that 
the  fatal,  swishing  loop  he  dreaded  might  have 
less  chance  of  securing  effective  hold.  But  the 
throw  was  not  made,  thanks  to  the  confusion  amid 
his  enemies,  and  though  all  but  one  or  two  of 

22 


THE  NINE  SWOKDS  OF  MORALES    23 

these  speedily  disengaged  themselves  and  sped 
forward  in  pursuit,  it  was  only  to  see  Zingaro  al 
ready  fifty  yards  away  and  still  rushing  on  at  a 
rate  which  every  moment  widened  the  gap  be 
tween  them. 

But  the  pursuers  did  not  pause — and,  indeed, 
there  seemed  little  enough  reason  for  them  to  lose 
heart  thus  early,  when  success  still  appeared  not 
only  certain  but  almost  at  hand.  They  knew  the 
ground,  perhaps  not  so  thoroughly  as  Manuel, 
but  sufficiently  well  to  realize  that  for  the  fugitive 
there  could  be  no  escape  except  directly  across 
the  swollen  and  brawling  torrent  which  barred  his 
path.  Spreading  out  as  they  rode,  and  taking 
advantage  of  a  curve  in  the  course  of  the  torrent, 
a  moment  served  to  place  fugitive  and  pursuers 
in  such  a  position  that  his  case  seemed  hopeless. 
At  all  events  any  attempt  on  his  part  to  turn 
either  way  along  the  bank  of  the  stream  promised 
to  be  impossible  unless  he  were  willing  to  ride  di 
rectly  over  at  least  one  or  two  of  his  foes.  With 
fierce  satisfaction  they  realized  this,  seemingly 
at  the  same  instant,  and  at  once  a  shout  of  tri 
umph  burst  from  the  lips  of  all. 

Manuel  heard  the  exultant  cry,  and  instantly 
fathomed  its  meaning,  but  he  smiled  as  he  once 
more  bent  low  in  the  saddle  and  let  his  hand  rest 
caressingly  upon  the  smooth,  warm  neck  before 
him. 

"They  do  not  know  us  yet,  Zingaro,"  he  mur 
mured  softly ;  * '  ah,  no ;  not  yet ! ' ' 

Then  horse  and  rider  burst  suddenly  through 
a  final  fringe  of  willows  and  found  themselves 


:>4     THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

instantly  upon  the  bank  of  the  raging  and  foaming 
barrier  in  the  path. 

Viewed  in  that  faint  and  uncertain  light,  it  did 
not  present  an  inviting  appearance  to  either  steed 
or  rider,  and  even  Manuel's  brave  gray  snorted  a 
little  as  he  paused  on  the  wet  and  yielding  brink. 
The  water  was  running  over  the  banks,  for  the 
torrent  at  this  point  bore  not  only  its  own  proper 
volume,  but  also  that  of  the  Laguna  Santa  Rosa, 
the  two  streams  joining  but  a  short  distance 
above.  Knowing  perfectly  that  both  were  at  their 
highest,  Manuel  did  not  need  any  information  as 
to  what  must  be  the  depth  and  force  of  the  torrent 
raging  along  before  him.  But  what  was  the  use 
of  considering? 

1 '  In,  Zingaro !  in ! "  he  shouted,  and  at  the  word 
the  brave  gray  sprang  from  the  bank,  and  horse 
and  man  almost  disappeared  beneath  the  muddy 
flood. 

But  only  for  an  instant.  The  next,  Zingaro 's 
head  was  reared  high  above  it,  and  with  a  great 
snort  of  mingled  spirit  and  disgust  he  blew  a 
wave  of  the  unpleasant  liquid  from  his  nostrils. 
Then,  steadily  and  swiftly,  he  swam  for  the  oppo 
site  shore. 

Manuel  knew  better  than  to  attempt  to  guide, 
particularly  in  that  dark  obscurity,  a  horse  whose 
extreme  intelligence  he  had  long  since  learned  to 
fully  appreciate.  He  let  the  reins  lie  loose  upon 
Zingaro 's  neck,  and  that  sagacious  and  capable 
animal  justified  the  confidence  well.  Before  Man 
uel  could  believe  it  possible,  the  gray  was  clamber 
ing  like  a  cat  up  the  bank  on  the  further  side, 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     25 

breaking  his  way  through  the  willows  with  a  calm 
determination,  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  such 
performances  were  only  what  any  and  every 
properly-minded  horse  should  do  quite  as  a  mat 
ter  of  course. 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN  WHICH  MANUEL  LEAENS  THAT  IT  IS  NOT  ADVISABLE 
TO   TKIUMPH    UNTIL   WELL   OUT   OF    THE   WOODS 

ONCE  more  on  firm  ground,  Zingaro  freed  him 
self  of  as  much  as  possible  of  the  water 
which  clung  to  his  sides  as  he  left  the  stream  with 
a  shake  which  rattled  every  bone  in  Manuel's 
body.  Then,  with  a  vigorous  stamp,  given  as  if 
to  assure  the  rider  that  he  was  still  thoroughly 
capable  for  whatever  remained  to  be  done,  he 
once  more  started  forward. 

But  Manuel  checked  him.  Across  the  stream, 
on  the  bank  he  had  just  quitted,  he  could  dimly 
make  out  a  confusion  of  men  and  horses.  All 
seemed  to  be  crowded  close  upon  the  brink,  but 
as  yet  none  had  dared  to  venture  further.  Amid 
the  constant  swish  and  murmur  of  the  rushing 
water  came  to  his  ear  a  mingling  of  fiercely  ut 
tered  words  and  savage  Spanish  oaths.  Whether 
it  was  himself  or  one  another  that  they  were  so 
vigorously  cursing,  it  was,  of  course,  impossible 
to  decide,  but  it  could  readily  be  conjectured  that 
they  would  not  waste  time  in  imprecations  if  they 
deemed  it  possible  still  to  pursue  him.  Mani 
festly  his  successful  crossing  of  the  torrent  had 
put  them  at  a  loss. 

26 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    27 

6 '  And  no  blame  to  them,  Zingaro :  they  have 
not  thee ! ' '  was  Manuel 's  half-uttered  thought,  as 
once  more  he  stroked  the  arching  neck  of  his 
splendid  gray. 

Manuel  knew  that  his  true  policy  now  was  to 
move  on  as  silently  as  might  be,  if  possible  leav 
ing  his  enemies  uncertain  whether  or  not  he  had 
made  the  passage  in  safety — but  he  chose  to  do 
otherwise.  His  pulse  was  beating  high  with  the 
pride  of  triumph  already  his,  the  confidence  of 
success  yet  before  him — and  he  was  little  more 
than  a  boy !  He  turned  again  toward  the  farther 
bank  and  shouted,  his  strong  young  voice  ringing 
clear  amid  the  hiss  of  the  water : 

' '  Adios,  Senors !     Buenos  noches ! ' ' 

He  realized  in  an  instant  how  grave  had  been 
his  error.  At  once  rang  out  a  louder  burst  of 
imprecations,  and  amid  the  clamor  a  single  fierce 
cry  of  wild  rage,  followed  at  once  by  the  sound 
of  a  plunge,  to  which,  with  barely  a  pause  between, 
succeeded  another  and  another.  Clearly  his 
taunting  words  had  been  the  one  thing  needed  to 
spur  them  forward — and  with  something  very 
like  an  anathema  upon  himself,  Manuel  at  once 
urged  Zingaro  on  and  away  from  the  scene  of  his 
rider's  folly.  Even  as  he  did  so  he  heard — and 
with  a  feeling  of  instantly  returning  confidence — 
what  seemed  a  shriek  of  consternation  from  the 
waters  behind  him,  followed  immediately  by  a 
chorus  of  other  cries.  But  he  did  not  pause. 
That  some  one  of  his  pursuers  was  in  serious 
trouble  seemed  certain,  and  Manuel  could  not  re 
press  a  feeling  of  satisfaction,  possibly  repre- 


^8    THE  NINE  SWOBDS  OF  MORALES 

hensible  but  very  human,  that  it  should  be  so.  If 
true  it  meant  much  to  him,  but  he  fully  realized 
now  that,  whatever  the  case  of  his  pursuers,  his 
part  must  be  to  put  all  the  distance  possible  be 
tween  himself  and  those  behind  him,  and  this  at 
once.  So  again,  with  cheering  voice  and  gentle 
touch  of  knee,  he  urged  Zingaro  on. 

But  there  was  a  different  character  of  country 
now  to  be  passed  over.  The  flat  plains  which 
Manuel  had  hitherto  been  traversing  had  given 
place  to  steep  and  high  hills,  thickly  covered,  for 
the  most  part,  with  wood.  The  occasional  white 
oaks  of  the  Santa  Eosa  plains  had  been  succeeded 
by  the  more  vigorous  black  oak,  intermingled  with 
which  were  many  specimens  of  the  beautiful  ma- 
drona  and  the  stately  fir.  These  would  not  have 
seriously  impeded  a  horseman's  progress,  but  be 
neath  them  the  ground  was  almost  everywhere 
covered  thick  with  underbrush,  manzinita,  young 
madrona,  and  dwarf  live-oak,  with  here  and  there 
patches  of  the  exasperating  chemisal.  One  un 
used  to  the  territory  would,  on  horseback,  have 
been  almost  completely  helpless  in  broad  day,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  darkness. 

But  Manuel  made  good  progress,  thanks  to 
Zingaro 's  sure-footedness  and  general  intelligence 
and  to  his  own  thorough  knowledge  of  the  ground 
he  traversed.  There  was  comfort,  too,  in  the 
thought  that,  however  difficult  the  way  was  for 
himself,  it  must  be  more  so  for  his  enemies,  should 
any  of  them  have  succeeded  in  effecting  the  pas 
sage  of  the  torrent.  Even  allowing  that  their 
general  knowledge  of  the  country  was  equal  to  his 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     29 

own — which  hd  felt  it  was  no  conceit  on  his  part 
to  doubt — there  remained  the  extreme  difficulty  of 
following  his  trail  in  the  dark  through  a  wilder 
ness,  unless,  indeed,  they  were  able  to  keep  with 
in  sound  of  Zingaro's  hoofs.  This  he  felt  certain 
had  been  rendered  impossible  already.  Even  al 
lowing  them  to  have  succeeded  in  crossing  the 
stream  which  had  checked  their  first  pursuit,  they 
could  not,  he  was  well  assured,  have  done  so 
within  the  very  few  moments  that  he  could  have 
been  in  hearing.  Had  it  been  a  question  of  a 
single  and  plainly  defined  path,  serving  for  both 
pursuers  and  pursued,  the  matter  might  have 
been  different,  but  the  actual  conditions  were  far 
otherwise.  His  general  direction,  as  also  the 
probable  objective  point  which  he  might  choose  for 
himself,  those  who  followed  could  quite  probably 
guess ;  but  they  could  not  without  difficulty  and  de 
lay  ascertain  which  of  the  various  cattle  or  Indian 
trails  apparently  or  actually  tending  in  that  di 
rection  he  had  elected  to  follow.  By  way  of 
increasing  their  difficulties  as  to  this,  Manuel  took 
pains,  during  the  first  half-mile  of  his  renewed 
flight,  seizing  the  opportunity  afforded  by  a  break 
in  the  underbrush  with  which  he  was  familiar,  to 
make  a  sudden  change  from  the  path  along  which 
he  had  first  ridden  to  another.  The  latter,  while 
notably  rougher,  tended  in  the  same  general  direc 
tion  and  possessed  the  advantage  of  being  some 
what  straighter  and  shorter.  He  knew,  too,  that 
in  due  course  it  would  again  approach  so  near  to 
the  track  he  had  previously  followed  as  to  make 


30    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

another  change,  should  he  consider  one  advisable 
at  that  point,  a  matter  of  no  difficulty. 

So  he  rode  confidently  forward,  reasonably  sure 
that  he  had  defeated  the  immediate  pursuit, 
though  not  able  to  dispel  a  certain  amount  of  un 
easiness  which  had  arisen  in  his  mind  as  to  what 
might  await  him  further  on  in  his  journey. 
Should  those  of  his  foes  whom  he  had  already 
encountered  and  eluded  have  made  what  seemed 
to  Manuel  the  natural  and  almost  obvious  effort 
to  retrieve  their  failure,  there  was,  indeed,  more 
than  a  chance  of  trouble  still  in  store  for  him. 
To  Manuel  it  appeared  almost  inconceivable  that 
they  should  not  attempt  to  speed  down  the  east 
ern  shore  of  the  Laguna  with  the  purpose  of  cut 
ting  him  off  when  he  should  endeavor  later  to 
cross  that  broad  stream  in  order  to  make  the 
final  stage  of  his  journey  along  the  Arroyo  Santa 
Rosa  to  the  Rivas  Rancho.  It  was  true  that,  at 
the  very  beginning  of  their  journey  of  intercep 
tion,  there  would  be  the  difficulty  of  crossing  the 
furious  watercourse  in  which  they  had  already 
come  to  grief,  but  this  he  knew  could  be  much 
more  easily  done  at  the  point  where  they  would 
naturally  attempt  it  under  the  changed  plans. 
There  it  would  not  have  received  the  waters  of 
the  swollen  Laguna,  and  must,  of  course,  be  a 
much  less  formidable  barrier. 

Manuel,  however,  was  of  too  healthy  a  disposi 
tion  to  worry  long  over  difficulties  yet  in  the 
future.  Thus  far  the  luck  had  all  been  his,  and 
he  was  boy  enough  still  to  look  for  it  to  continue 
with  him.  Even  allowing  that  his  enemies  were 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    31 

making  the  attempt  he  feared,  there  were  still 
chances  in  his  favor.  For  one,  they  might  guess, 
but  they  certainly  could  not  with  certainty  deter 
mine,  the  point  at  which  he  would  make  his  cross 
ing.  Indeed,  unless  they  knew  the  Laguna  as 
thoroughly  as  he  did  himself,  there  was  every 
probability  that  in  this  they  would  make  an  error 
likely  to  completely  defeat  their  plans. 

Wonderfully  cheered,  for  some  reason,  by  the 
last  thought  as  it  flashed  through  his  mind,  Man 
uel  again  found  himself  leaning  forward  over  the 
neck  of  his  tireless  steed  and  once  more  address 
ing  him  aloud,  as  if  he  were  a  human  companion : 

"Not  yet  have  they  caught  us,  Zingaro,  mi 
muchacho! — and  how  should  they  while  I  ride 
a  horse  like  thee  ? ' ' 

If  Zingaro  did  not  understand  the  words,  he  did 
the  loving  caress  that  accompanied  them,  and  he 
swung  his  handsome  head  half  around  as  though 
to  look  his  acknowledgments.  And  then,  as  if  it 
were  the  instant  result  of  the  slight  change  in 
the  direction  of  his  attention,  he  stopped  sud 
denly  in  his  rapid  walk  and  stood  still  in  the  path. 
His  head  was  up,  his  eyes  flashing,  his  ears  bent 
forward.  Manifestly  he  was  listening,  and  this 
with  so  human  an  air  of  intelligence  as  fairly 
startled  even  the  rider  who  knew  him  so  well. 

But  Manuel  had  other  cause  for  thought  than 
this,  for  in  the  first  instant  of  the  silence  which 
marked  the  pause  in  his  own  progress  he,  too,  had 
heard  what  attracted  Zingaro 's  attention — the 
hoof-beats  of  more  than  one  horse  following  in  his 
track. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN  WHICH  MANUEL  FINDS  HIMSELF  PARTICIPATING  IN 
A  HUNT BUT  NOT  AS  THE  HUNTER 

AMAZEMENT  contended  with  consternation 
in  Manuel's  mind  as  he  listened.  That  he 
should  have  been  pursued  was  nothing  strange, 
but  that  those  on  his  track  should  have  been  able, 
despite  their  accident  at  the  crossing,  not  only  to 
keep  pace  with  but  also  to  overtake  him,  more 
than  all  to  follow  his  trail  with  apparently  un 
erring  certainty — and  this  at  night  and  in  a 
wilderness — seemed  to  pass  belief. 

For  a  moment,  indeed,  almost  inclined  to  doubt 
his  own  senses,  Manuel  redoubled  his  attention — 
and  again,  as  if  in  answer  to  his  doubt,  came  the 
dropping  sounds  of  hoof-beats.  Clearly,  too,  they 
were  drawing  rapidly  nearer  with  every  instant 
that  he  hesitated,  and  just  as  evidently  they  were 
following  directly  in  his  track. 

Manuel  shook  his  braided  reins. 

"Vamos,  Zingaro!"  he  whispered,  and  the  good 
horse  shot  forward  along  the  dark  trail  at  a  pace 
which  must  have  insured  speedy  disaster  to  any 
animal  less  sure-footed  than  such  as  he.  Manuel 
realized  this,  if  Zingaro  did  not,  and  there  was 
comfort  in  the  thought — comfort  the  young  rider 

32 


THE  X1XE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    33 

needed  at  that  moment  and  for  many  thereafter. 
For,  recklessly  as  he  rode,  those  who  followed 
seemed  even  more  heedless  of  the  chances  of  the 
pathway  and  the  night.  Ever  amid  the  hoof-beats 
of  his  own  steed  sounded  the  continuous  thud- 
thudding  behind  him.  Try  as  he  might,  he  seemed 
unable  to  increase  the  distance  between  them — 
indeed,  it  seemed  at  times  as  if  it  were  rather 
growing  less — and  the  feeling  of  vexation  in  the 
young  fugitive 's  mind  speedily  began  to  give  way 
to  one  stronger  and  far  more  uncomfortable. 

Than  Manuel  de  Guerra  no  braver  youth  in 
that  old  day  rode  the  hills  and  plains  of  Sonoma, 
but  he  was  not  without  at  least  a  slight  share  of 
the  superstition  of  his  race  and  time.  Despite  his 
efforts  to  cast  it  forth,  the  thought  steadily  grew 
in  his  mind  that  there  was  something  uncanny  in 
this  suddenly  revived  pursuit  which  checked  at 
no  difficulty,  made  no  error  over  any  of  his  twists 
and  turnings,  but  followed  ever  surely  and  re 
morselessly  in  his  track.  That  he  did  not  gain 
upon  those  behind  was  not  so  strange.  Recklessly 
as  he  rode,  wherever  the  chance  offered,  it  was 
yet  impossible,  without  absolute  madness,  to 
press  Zingaro  to  his  best  speed,  and  this  he  had 
not  sought  to  do.  But  the  singular  ability  which 
his  pursuers,  whom  heretofore  he  had  not  cred 
ited  with  any  great  keenness  of  woodcraft  or  in 
tellect,  now  showed  in  keeping  so  unerringly  upon 
his  trail  was  something  which  he  could  not  con 
sider  without  ever-increasing  wonder. 

Gradually  the  temptation  grew  strong  within 
him  to  check  his  wild  flight,  await  their  coming, 


34    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

and,  once  and  for  all,  end  everything  of  doubt  in 
the  encounter  that  must  follow.  The  knowledge 
that  he  was  fleeing,  to  all  appearance  in  strong 
fear,  from  pursuers  so  few  in  number  was  some 
thing  in  itself  intensely  distasteful,  and  but  for  one 
thought  he  must  have  acted  upon  the  bolder  im 
pulse  the  instant  it  was  conceived.  But  Manuel 
knew  that  his  way  lay  forward;  that  honor  and 
duty — yes,  and  the  word  of  her  whose  will  must 
be  his  law  even  though  it  sent  him  from  her  for 
ever — bade  him  take  no  needless  risk  of  failure  in 
his  mission.  If  he  stayed  to  defy  those  who  fol 
lowed,  he  could  not  but  feel  that  he  should  thereby 
almost  certainly  defeat  that  mission — and  in  his 
heart  Manuel  dared  not  deny  that  he  would  wel 
come  failure,  even  though  brought  about  at  the 
peril  of  his  life.  And  so  confessing,  he  vowed 
once  more,  deep  in  his  loyal  soul,  that  no  act  of 
his  should  aid  his  enemies  even  to  the  accomplish 
ment  of  his  heart's  chief  desire,  since  that  desire 
his  honor  bade  that  he  put  from  him. 

So  he  rode  steadily  forward,  and  ever  behind 
him  sounded  still — continuously,  maddeningly — 
the  hoof-beats  that  told  of  pursuit  relentless  and 
untiring. 

Once,  indeed,  either  through  his  having  uncon 
sciously  slackened  his  speed  or  because  of  some 
acoustic  vagary  of  the  night  or  the  locality,  the 
following  sounds  seemed  suddenly  to  have  ap 
proached  so  near  that  he  impulsively  checked 
Zingaro  and  whirled  him  about  in  the  path.  It 
seemed  that  the  pursuers  were  actually  upon  his 
flanks,  and  it  was  with  a  fierce  mental  anathema 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    35 

upon  his  own  carelessness  that  he  prepared  to  do 
what  now  seemed  the  only  thing  possible,  and 
grapple  hand  to  hand  with  his  enemies.  But  an 
instant  served  to  show  that  it  had  not  yet  come  to 
this,  for  the  hoof -beats,  though  certainly  nearer 
than  before,  still  sounded,  as  he  could  now  deter 
mine,  some  distance  back  on  the  trail.  And  even 
as  he  noted  this  the  sounds  ceased  altogether. 

Sudden  fury  seized  upon  Manuel,  as.  the  picture 
of  his  pursuers,  waiting  there,  grim  and  silent  in 
the  darkness,  rose  in  his  mind. 

1  i  Come  on,  cowards ! "  he  shouted  savagely. 

There  was  no  answer,  only  the  echoes  of  his 
own  voice  sounding  for  a  moment  up  the  hillside, 
then  once  more  the  blank  silence  of  the  night, 
absolute  and  profound.  Again  arose  in  Manuel's 
mind  an  impulse  akin  to  that  he  had  earlier 
crowded  down,  and  he  longed  to  spur  Zingaro 
back  along  that  dark  path  and  to  dash  savagely 
down  upon  those  who  waited  there,  who  had  fol 
lowed  him  so  fiercely  and  so  far  and  yet  chose 
not,  save  at  their  own  time  and  opportunity,  to 
close  upon  him  and  make  an  end. 

But  the  impulse  passed,  or  rather  the  better 
resolution  triumphed,  and  with  grinding  teeth  and 
frowning  brows  he  once  again  swung  his  steed 
about  and  rode  on  his  way. 

And  once  more,  from  the  darkness  behind  him, 
came  the  sound  of  following  hoofs.  But  he  stayed 
no  more  to  listen,  and  for  mile  after  mile  sped 
swiftly  on. 

But  Manuel  halted  at  last,  and  this  with  a  sud 
den  conviction  that  now,  indeed,  had  the  choice 


36    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

been  taken  from  him  and  the  direction  of  his 
future  movements  placed  in  other  hands  than  his 
own.  And  with  this  thought  came  also  another, 
inexpressibly  galling,  that  he  had  for  an  hour  past 
been  made  to  play  the  part  of  hunted  quarry,  to 
be  driven  at  last,  like  a  harried  coyote,  into  the 
very  grasp  of  the  hunters. 

In  the  last  stage  of  his  hurried  flight  he  had 
suddenly  rounded  a  spur  of  the  steep  and  thickly- 
wooded  hill  bordering  the  western  shore  of  that 
portion  of  the  Laguna  Santa  Rosa  in  later  years 
to  be  known  as  "Gray's  Lake."  Before  him  now 
lay  a  comparatively  open  and  level  triangular 
glade,  of  which  the  boundaries  were  the  hillside 
and  the  water.  In  the  midst  of  the  space,  par 
tially  screened  by  clumps  of  intervening  shrub 
bery,  blazed  a  fire  of  logs  and  brushwood,  the 
flame  throwing  into  partial  and  fantastic  relief  a 
score  or  more  of  figures  seated  or  standing  about 
it.  Glimpses  were  to  be  obtained  also  of  yet  other 
forms  further  away  from  the  blaze  and  more  or 
less  obscured  in  the  shadows. 

Manuel  realized,  even  while  he  glanced  mechan 
ically  about  him,  that  if  he  were  seeking  a  way  of 
escape  the  quest  was  hopeless.  Already  he  knew 
the  ground  sufficiently  well  to  understand  that 
now,  indeed,  he  was  sorely  beset.  To  go  forward 
was  to  ride  directly  into  the  camp  of  those  whom 
he  could  not  question  were  his  foes ;  to  turn  back 
was  to  meet  his  immediate  pursuers.  To  the 
right  was  the  steep  and  impenetrably  wooded 
hillside,  and  on  the  left  the  broad  and  deep  ex 
panse  of  the  lake.  Knowing  Zingaro's  powers  as 


THE  XIXE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     37 

a  swimmer,  he  might,  indeed,  have  dared  this,  but 
the  shore  on  his  own  side  was  too  treacherously 
marshy  to  be  crossed.  Even  could  this  difficulty 
be  overcome,  he  knew  that  the  further  bank  was 
so  thickly  bordered  with  willows  that  a  landing 
there,  more  especially  at  night,  would  be  practi 
cally  impossible.  His  flight  seemed  ended. 

As  the  thought  forced  itself  into  his  mind  there 
came  again  to  his  ears  the  thudding  of  the  hoofs 
behind  him,  now  close  at  hand.  With  a  sudden 
furious  impulse  he  drew  one  of  his  long-barrelled 
pistols  from  the  holster  and  swung  his  horse 
about  until  he  faced  directly  back  in  his  tracks. 

"Stand!— I  will  fire!"  he  shouted  fiercely,  lev 
eling  his  weapon  at  the  blackness  before  him. 

The  shadows  of  the  thickly-wooded  pathway 
out  of  which  he  had  himself  just  emerged  still  hid 
his  pursuers,  but  he  heard  sounds  indicating  the 
sudden  checking  of  more  than  one  horse  as  his 
words,  followed  at  once  by  the  sharp  clicking  of 
his  pistol-lock,  rang  out  in  the  night.  The 
thought  flashed  through  his  mind  that  his  figure 
must  be  standing  in  dangerous  relief  against  the 
firelight  behind  him,  should  his  enemies  care  to 
anticipate  his  threat.  And  he  was  not  wrong. 

Even  with  the  thought  there  was  a  whirring 
twang,  and  something  soft  and  feathery,  like  the 
tip  of  a  bird's  wing,  brushed  with  lightning  swift 
ness  by  Manuel's  cheek. 

"Dios!"  he  muttered,  startled.     "An  arrow!" 

Half  involuntarily,  in  the  surprise  of  the  in 
stant,  he  pressed  his  trigger,  the  heavy  pistol  still 
leveled  at  that  dark  space  before  him.  The  ex- 


38    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

plosion  of  the  huge  piece  echoed  thunderously  up 
the  steep  hillside — but  Manuel  heard,  neverthe 
less,  a  sudden  "Wah!"  in  the  darkness,  which 
seemed  to  indicate  that  his  chance  bullet  had  not 
altogether  gone  astray. 

But  the  result  of  his  shot  had  not  daunted  his 
pursuers.  Before  lie  could  draw  the  second 
pistol,  had  he  been  so  minded,  two  horsemen  had 
darted  forward  from  the  shadows  and  seized  his 
reins,  one  on  either  side. 

Within  a  moment  a  score  or  more  of  footmen, 
some  rushing  from  the  camp-fire,  others  seeming 
to  spring  from  the  woods  at  his  very  stirrup, 
swarmed  about  him.  Turn  where  he  might,  Man 
uel  could  see  only  a  mass  of  wild,  dark  faces,  all 
the  more  fierce  in  appearance  for  the  flickering 
and  fitful  character  of  the  light  by  which  he 
viewed  them. 

But  Manuel,  after  one  moment  of  amazement, 
could  have  laughed  aloud.  At  once  he  lifted  the 
broad  hat  from  his  head  and  turned  his  face  to 
the  light. 

"You  are  Sonoma 's  men,"  he  said  quietly.  "I 
am  Manuel." 

There  was  a  stir  in  the  dark  throng  about  him. 
Then  he  heard  his  name — "Manuel,"  "Manu- 
elo,"  "Manuelito," — in  various  forms  passed 
about  as  it  were  from  one  to  another  of  those  who 
surrounded  him.  Always  it  was  uttered  in  tones 
of  kindness — kindness  recalling  those  days  in 
Manuel 's  early  boyhood  when  his  father  had  first 
taken  him  to  Sonoma 's  camp  and  won  for  him 
from  that  strange  potentate  and  his  wild  follow- 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    39 

ers  that  place  in  their  affections  which  had  ever 
since  been  his  own. 

The  two  men  who  had  seized  his  bridle  at  once 
released  their  hold,  but  one  of  them  bent  forward 
and  passed  his  hand,  lightly  but  with  an  air  of 
hasty  anxiety,  over  Manuel's  breast  and  shoul 
ders.  He  had  in  his  grasp  a  strung  bow,  but  the 
arrow  that  might  have  been  resting  on  the  string 
was  missing. 

Manuel  laughed,  and  swept  his  hand  swiftly 
across  his  cheek.  The  other  nodded  as  if  in  grave 
satisfaction,  then  calmly  thrust  a  bare  and  sinewy 
arm  close  to  Manuel's  eyes.  Even  in  the  half- 
light  the  youth  was  able  to  note  that  the  dark 
skin  was  scarred  by  a  yet  darker  mark,  such  as 
might  have  been  made  by  the  scorching  graze  of 
a  bullet. 

"I  am  sorry,  but  I  did  not  know,"  said  Manuel 
gravely,  speaking  in  Spanish,  but  almost  uncon 
sciously  modifying  it  as  to  word  and  accent  as 
his  earlier  experiences  with  those  about  him  had 
taught  him  should  be  done. 

"I  know  now  why  I  could  not  shake  you  off," 
he  added,  smiling  again. 

The  Indian's  dark  cheek  wrinkled  slightly,  and 
there  was  a  brief  gleam  of  white  teeth  which 
might  pass  for  at  least  the  suggestion  of  a  smile. 
But  he  only  said,  with  a  slow  nod : 

"We  will  go  to  Sonoma." 

He  spurred  forward,  his  mounted  companion 
and  Manuel  following,  side  by  side,  while  behind 
them  trooped  the  throng  of  footmen  whom  the 
sound  of  Manuel's  shot  had  called  together.  It 


40    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

was  but  a  distance  of  a  few  rods  to  the  camp-fire, 
and  before  Manuel  had  done  glancing  about  him 
and  endeavoring  to  recognize  individuals  among 
his  wild  escort,  he  had  arrived,  and  his  immediate 
conductors  checked  their  horses. 

i '  Sonoma, ' '  some  one  said. 

"You  are  welcome,  Manuelo,"  spoke  a  calm 
voice,  in  pure,  unaccented  Spanish.  "Dismount, 
sit  by  me  here,  and  say  how  I  may  serve  you. ' ' 


CHAPTER  VIII 

TELLING    OF     A     STRANGE     WOODLAND    POTENTATE    OF 

OLDEN  TIME  AND  THE  RECEPTION  HE  GAVE 

MANUEL  DE  GUERRA 

STRANGEST  and,  in  a  way,  most  romantic 
of  all  the  notable  figures  of  Northern  Cali 
fornia  in  that  old  day  was  the  singular  being  in 
whose  presence  Manuel  now  found  himself.  An 
Indian  of  Indians,  inasmuch  as  the  tribesmen  of 
every  hill  and  valley  for  a  hundred  miles  owned 
him  as  ruler,  there  were  yet  those  both  among 
his  own  people  and  the  aliens  in  the  land  who 
could  not  but  wonder  and  doubt  when  the  ques 
tion  of  his  race  was  suggested  to  them.  Indian  he 
might  be  in  habits  of  life  and  the  apparent  stolid 
impassivity  of  his  nature,  but  there  the  points  of 
identity  ended.  Dark  in  complexion,  he  was  not 
more  so  than  many  a  Spaniard  or  Mexican  who 
traced  a  pure-blood  descent  from  proud  houses 
in  Southern  Spain,  and  of  the  aquiline  outline  of 
his  countenance  the  same  could  be  said.  Utterly 
foreign  to  the  usual  appearance  of  the  race  he 
ruled  was  the  thick  mass  of  bristling  beard  which 
covered  his  face  from  throat  to  eyes,  while  his 
difference  in  this  respect  from  the  ordinary  In 
dian  was  accentuated  by  the  fact  that  his  hair, 

41 


42    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

instead  of  hanging  in  long,  straight  locks  upon  his 
neck  and  shoulders,  stood  out  in  thick,  stiff  clus 
ters  about  his  massive  head.  His  dress,  so  far  as 
the  conditions  of  his  life  permitted,  ^s  rather 
that  of  civilization  than  of  savagery.  Even  his 
piercing  black  eyes  were  not  distinctively  those 
of  an  Indian,  and  if  a  sterner  light  shone  in  them 
than  would  have  been  usual  had  they  lit  a  Cau 
casian  face,  the  fact  was  easily  to  be  accounted 
for  in  his  knowledge  that,  in  the  world  of  which 
alone  he  knew,  no  word  stood  above  his  own.  In 
the  little  Sonoma  pueblo  named  for  himself  and 
lying  beyond  the  mountains,  Vallejo  might  rule 
for  Mexico:  Sonoma  gave  him  friendship  al 
ways — obedience  when  their  wishes  chanced  to 
chime.  Far  to  the  southward  dwelt  Solano, 
"Prince"  by  grace  of  a  Spanish  patent,  So 
noma 's  tribal  suzerain  in  name — and  only  so. 
Here,  in  his  own  "Three  Valleys"  and  among 
the  hills  between,  he  ruled  his  tribesmen  as  he 
listed,  and  no  man  said  him  nay. 

Strange  tales  were  told  at  times  of  Sonoma 's 
blood  and  ancestry — tales  having  their  founda 
tion  very  probably  in  the  peculiarities  of  his  ap 
pearance,  possibly  in  some  actual  knowledge  of 
the  original*  narrator.  However  that  might  be, 
there  could  be  no  question  that  with  whatever  of 
fact  might  in  the  beginning  have  appertained  to 
them,  much  that  could  hardly  be  other  than  fiction 
had  come  to  be  interwoven — this  the  more  readily 
that  there  was  little  possibility  of  correcting 
whatever  of  error  there  might  be.  There  were 
old  men  living  who  were  credited  with  having 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    43 

knowledge  of  the  truth,  but  it  had  long  been 
known  that  no  one  of  these  could  be  induced  to 
tell  how  little  or  how  much  he  knew.  There  was 
one  other  also  who  had  knowledge,  but  whom  no 
one  cared  to  question — that  one,  Sonoma. 

So  the  rumors  of  knightly  Conquistador  an 
cestry,  of  descent  strangely  unblemished  by  gen 
erations  spent  amid  dark-hued  aliens,  remained 
but  rumors,  as  did  yet  other  tales,  some  so 
strange  as  to  be  self-evidently  works  of  fancy— 
and  Sonoma  lived  on,  to  the  great  mass  of  his 
own  tribesmen,  as  to  the  stranger  settlers  in  the 
land,  a  problem  and  a  mystery. 

He  did  not  rise  as  Manuel  dismounted  before 
him  where  he  lay  in  the  full  glow  of  the  firelight, 
his  athletic  limbs,  wrapped  in  Mexican  leggings 
of  leather,  extended  carelessly  before  him  and 
his  great  form  partially  supported  upon  one 
elbow.  His  couch  was  a  brightly  barred  Mexican 
blanket,  ample  in  size,  and  as  Manuel  gave  Zin- 
garo  into  the  care  of  one  who  stepped  forward  to 
receive  him,  the  Chief  motioned  for  the  youth  to 
seat  himself  so  close  beside  him  as  to  be  also  pro 
tected  from  the  dampness  of  the  earth.  Manuel 
obeyed,  and  then  Sonoma  silently  extended  his 
hand,  for  so  it  was  ever  his  custom  to  greet  his 
friends  among  the  white  men.  When  he  spoke  it 
was  again  in  Spanish,  as  pure  as  Manuel's  own, 
and  his  soft,  almost  caressing  voice  seemed  alto 
gether  at  variance  with  the  fierceness  which  his 
bristling  beard  and  brows  gave  to  his  dark  face. 

"You  are  welcome,  Manuelito,"  he  said.    "But 


44    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

why  do  you  fire  on  your  father's  friends — and 
your  own!  It  was  your  pistol,  was  it  not!" 

Manuel's  eyes  glistened  and  his  white  teeth, 
shone  in  the  firelight. 

"I  but  gave  bullet  for  arrow,  Chief,"  he  said, 
"and  there  is  no  hurt  done.  But  why  do  my 
father's  friends  chase  my  father's  son  over  the 
hills  as  if  he  were  a  coyote!" 

Something  as  near  a  smile  as  ever  came  upon 
Sonoma 's  grim  face  twitched  for  an  instant  the 
masses  of  his  great  beard. 

"And  why,"  he  said,  "does  your  father's  son 
prowl  like  a  coyote  about  us  in  the  dark,  if  he 
would  not  be  hunted!" 

"How  should  I  know  you  were  here — so  far 
from  home!" 

Sonoma 's  broad  shoulders  stiffened  slightly, 
and  when  he  spoke  again  something  of  the  soft 
ness  seemed  gone  from  his  voice.  But  there  was 
no  anger  in  his  words. 

"It  was  all  home — once,"  he  said,  and  bent  his 
piercing  eyes  about  him,  on  either  side,  as  if 
striving,  even  in  the  darkness,  to  survey  the  herit 
age  he  knew  so  well  was  passing  from  him. 

Manuel  hastened  to  speak  again. 

"Chief,  your  people  have  done  me  no  harm.  I 
passed  them  in  the  dark,  and  they  did  not  know 
whom  they  followed.  But  there  may  be  those 
even  now  upon  my  track  from  whom  I  have  more 
to  fear." 

"Gonzales*  men?" 

' '  Yes.    How  did  you  know ! ' ' 

"I  knew  they  were  abroad — and  so  my  men 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    45 

kept  guard,"  said  the  Chief  sententiously.  "But 
I  believed  them  across  the  water." 

' i  So  they  are,  but  a  few  may  have  followed  me 
here." 

"Then  they  shall  follow  you  no  more,"  said 
Sonoma  quietly,  and,  turning  his  head,  he  spoke 
to  those  of  his  tribesmen  nearest  him.  Now  he 
used  the  pure  Indian  tongue,  of  which  his  young 
guest  had  but  a  smattering.  Manuel  could  obtain 
only  an  inkling  of  what  was  said,  but  he  guessed 
the  remainder,  something  of  it  at  least,  when  he 
saw  a  group  of  men  walk  quickly  to  their  picketed 
horses,  mount  and  ride  quietly  away  in  the  direc 
tion  from  which  he  had  come. 

"They  will  keep  the  trails,"  said  Sonoma,  an 
swering  the  question  in  the  eyes  of  his  guest, 

"And  if  any  come — " 

"They  will  stop,"  said  the  Chief. 

"But  if  they  will  not!" 

Sonoma 's  great  brush  of  beard  twitched  again. 

i  i  They  will  stop, ' '  he  repeated. 

Manuel  laid  his  hand  hesitatingly  upon  his 
host's  arm. 

"I  would  not  wish,"  he  began — but  said  no 
more,  for  he  knew  Sonoma 's  moods  well,  and  the 
look  that  met  his  own  now  warned  him  that 
further  suggestion  was  unwelcome.  And,  to  say 
truth,  it  was  with  no  particular  feeling  of  sorrow 
that  he  saw  his  possible  pursuers  consigned  to  at 
least  the  chance  of  something  like  a  very  shocking 
surprise  in  the  near  future. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said,  more  for  a  new  subject  of 


46    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

conversation  than  otherwise,  "why  TOUT  people 
are  here  to-night." 

"We  came  three  days  ago  to  hunt  the  wild  fowl. 
We  would  have  gone  before  now.  bnt  the  waters 
rose  and  our  laden  ponies  cannot  cross.  And 
there  are  some  of  the  women  and  children  with 
us.  So  we  have  waited." 

••Why  not  go  as  I  have  come  to-night  ?  I  swam 
^•^••M  through." 

"Yes — with  some  one  after  you,"  said  Sonoma, 
again  with  that  strange  hint  of  un-Indian  humor 
breaking  thfMgh  his  ordinary  aboriginal  impas~ 
sivenesSy  9&  was  wont  to  happen  when  it  fell  in 
his  way  to  converse  with  a  Caucasian. 

But  he  was  thoroughly  grave  an  instant  later, 
for  a  sound  of  confusion  suddenly  came  from  the 
northern  end  of  the  waterside  glade.  The  guess 
which  Manuel  at  once  made  as  to  its  cause  needed 
not  for  confirmation  the  sudden  burst  of  Spanish 
profanity  which  broke  forth  a  few  seconds  later. 

••"They  have  tracked  me.  after  all — and  quick 
ly,"  said  Manuel. 

"Yes.""  said  Sonoma  quietly.  S4but  they  will  go 
back  now." 

Then  he  signed  with  his  hand,  and  his  young 
guest's  horse,  which  had  been  undergoing  a  vig 
orous  rubbing  down — indeed,  but  that  Manuel 
had  seen  this  going  on.  he  would  scarcely  have 
contented  himself  to  delay  so  long — was  led  for 
ward. 

"I  have  seen  that  you  were  eager  to  be  gone." 
said  his  strange  host,  speaking  in  his  usual  quiet 
and  passionless  fashion.  "Then  ride  on  now — " 


THE  XIXE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    47 

and  once  more  the  grim  phantom  of  a  smile  flitted 
across  his  wild  face — "lest  I  have  other  guests 
yon  may  not  care  to  meet." 

Manuel  wrong  his  hand,  then  swung  himself 
into  the  saddle. 

"Shall  these  go  with  you?"'  asked  the  Chief, 
indicating  a  group  of  his  men  who  stood  beside 
their  ponies  near  at  hand. 

"Oh,  no;  indeed,  there  is  no  need,"  said  Man 
uel.  ^Keep  my  friends  yonder  from  following." 
he  added,  laughing,  "and  I  shall  go  the  faster  for 
being  alone." 

"Yes.  your  horse  is  swift,  though  we  have  as 
good,"  said  the  Chief.  "But  have  it  as  you 
will." 

Then,  as  Manuel  settled  himself  in  the  irnHif, 
Sonoma  arose  suddenly  and  stood  beside  him. 

*  •  Manuelito,"  he  said  in  his  soft  voice  of  caress 
ing  kindness,  "you  ride  to  the  '^•W^IF  Rivasf f> 

"Yes.  Chief." 

•I"— and  now  Manuel  noted  a  hesitation 
which  seemed  strange,  indeed,  in  one  who  ordi 
narily  knew  his  own  strong  will  and  spoke  it 
fearlessly — '-not.  Manuelito,  to  Donna  Panehaf" 

"Chief!" 

Sonoma  lifted  a  deprecating  hand. 

"Be  not  angry.  Manuelito,  son  of  my  friend, 
my  friend  who  is  dead,"  he  said,  in  his  soft 
Spanish.  "Go  your  way  as  you  wilL  But,  Man- 
uelo.  all  man's  foes  are  not  those  who  waylay  him 
in  the  woods  or  chase  him  on  the  plain." 

-udden  fire  of  fury  seemed  to  flame  in  the 
Chief's  eyes  as  he  uttered  the  last  words,  and 


48    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

into  Manuel's  mind  came  a  faint  memory  of  a 
tale  he  seemed  to  have  heard  sometime  in  his 
early  youth,  a  strange,  wild  story  of  a  Sonoma 
who  then  claimed  other  race  and  name  than  now 
were  his — a  story  in  which  a  woman  figured.  But 
the  dim  memory  faded,  and  his  mind  came  back 
to  the  present  as  he  saw  the  Chief  turn  away  with 
no  further  words,  a  wave  of  his  hand  serving  for 
farewell.  Manuel  replied  in  the  same  silent  fash 
ion,  loosened  his  braided  reins,  and  rode  on  his 
way. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IN    WHICH    MANUEL    REACHES    A    LANDMARK    IN    HIS 
JOURNEY  AND  ENCOUNTERS  THE  THREE  IRON  MEN 

MANUEL  knew  every  cattle-path  and  Indian 
trail  on  both  sides  of  the  Laguna,  and  it 
needed  but  a  few  moments'  careful  work  for  him 
to  guide  Zingaro  to  the  nearest  of  these  which 
trended  in  the  direction  he  desired  to  go.  Then, 
onward  once  more  sped  the  good  horse,  gallop 
ing  when  he  could,  walking  when  he  must,  but 
never  failing  to  make  the  very  best  speed  possible. 

But  the  path  was  steep  and  tortuous,  and  some 
times,  where  it  ran  along  the  shore  of  the  Laguna, 
Manuel  found  that  the  water  had  risen  so  high 
as  to  cover  it.  Then  it  became  necessary  to  break 
a  way  through  the  brushwood,  which  was  slow 
and  wearisome  work.  Hasten  as  he  would,  it  was 
an  hour  before  he  reined  in  his  still  vigorous 
steed  on  the  summit  of  Battle  Hill  and  sprang 
from  his  saddle  beneath  the  shadow  of  the 
" Three  Iron  Men." 

Manuel  knew  the  legend  well.  From  the  days 
in  his  early  boyhood  when  his  Indian  nurse  had 
told  him  the  tale,  it  had  remained  ever  in  his 
memory.  Had  it  been  otherwise  the  story  must 
in  any  case  have  been  recalled  to  him  now.  Even 

49 


50    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

as  he  dismounted  to  give  Zingaro  the  rest  that  he 
felt  the  good  horse  needed  before  attempting  the 
passage  of  the  broad  stretch  of  water  which  lay 
below,  from  high  above  came  to  his  ears  the 
clash  of  arms  and  armor,  the  sound  of  mighty 
blows,  and  the  groans  of  wounded  and  dying  men 
sore  stricken  in  strife.  Of  a  surety  the  Iron  Men 
were  still  fighting  that  last  deadly  battle. 

Manuel  had  no  more  superstition  than  belonged 
to  his  race  and  time,  but  he  crossed  himself  as  he 
listened,  and  glanced  not  alone  above  him,  but 
also  around  about  the  sloping  sides  of  the  hill.  A 
little  moved  to  awe  he  was,  and  at  least  approach 
ing  that  frame  of  mind  in  which  he  would  scarcely 
have  been  startled  to  see  the  steep  slopes  peopled 
again  with  the  dark  and  striving  forms  of  the 
savage  warriors  against  whom  the  Iron  Men  had 
made  their  last  desperate  struggle.  He  saw  noth 
ing,  of  course,  and  his  stout  young  nerves  were 
too  strong  and  healthy  for  him  to  imagine  what 
was  not  there.  Yet  the  place  and  the  hour 
brought  back  with  weird  force  the  tale  of  the 
long-past  tragedy.  Vividly  he  recalled  with  what 
intense  interest  he  had  listened  to  the  story  of 
the  armed  and  armored  strangers  and  the  stern 
march  that  had  ended  so  darkly.  The  tale  was 
centuries  old  even  when  he  heard  it  first,  but  it 
had  lost  nothing  of  impressiveness  then  for  the 
ears  of  a  child,  and  it  lost  nothing  now,  recalled 
under  such  circumstances,  for  the  mind  of  the 
man. 

Coming  from  what  distant  scene  of  Spanish  in 
vasion  could  now  only  be  conjectured,  the  stern 


TIIK  NINE  SWORDS  OP  MORALES    51 

strangers  had  fought  their  way  thus  far  to  the 
north.  Fiercely  pursued  they  were  and  harassed 
as  they  progressed  by  ever  increasing  bodies  of 
native  foemen,  who,  day  by  day  and  night  after 
night,  hung  upon  their  flanks  with  never-ceasing 
enmity.  Day  by  day  the  number  of  the  pursued 
grew  less  as  they  fought  their  way  hopelessly  on 
ward.  Day  by  day  their  steeds  grew  more  wear 
ied  and  less  able  to  bear  the  riders,  who,  worn 
and  famished  themselves,  were  wholly  unfit  to 
pursue  their  way  on  foot.  Day  by  day  the  de 
spairing  eyes  of  chiefs  and  followers  looked 
vainly  for  the  succor  that  never  came.  And  at 
last,  upon  this  bold  highland,  seized  on  in  the 
fugitives'  final  desperation  as  offering  at  least 
a  chance  to  die  hardly  and  at  savage  cost  to  the 
remorseless  pursuers,  came  the  beginning  of  the 
end. 

Here  the  fugitives  had  intrenched  themselves 
for  the  last  struggle.  Here,  foot  by  foot,  the  lines 
of  gaunt-faced  men  with  which  the  upper  heights 
of  the  hill  had  been  surrounded  in  the  awful  sim 
plicity  of  the  final  plan  of  defense  gave  slowly 
back  toward  the  crest  of  the  hill  above  them — 
those  lines  ever  shortening  as  man  after  man  died 
under  the  continuous  onrush  of  overwhelming 
foes — died  bravely,  sternly,  and  never  unavenged. 
Here,  upon  the  summit  of  the  hill,  stood  at  last, 
back  to  back,  still  firm  and  unflinching,  the  Three 
Iron  Men. 

Leaders  of  the  band  they,  and  sole  survivors, 
not  that  their  own  part  in  the  battling  already 
done  had  been  less  earnest,  not  that  they  had 


52    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

dared  death  less  fearlessly.  But  the  full  suits  of 
steel  they  wore  by  virtue  of  their  higher  rank  had 
guarded  them  better  from  the  arrows  and  lances 
and  stone-headed  clubs  of  their  assailants  than 
had  the  buff  coats  and  simpler  armor  of  their  fol 
lowers.  But  now,  overwhelmed  by  the  rush  of 
blood-maddened  foes,  crushed  to  the  earth  by  the 
weight  of  those  who  grieved  not  that  they  died 
if  only  in  dying  they  could  aid  the  living  against 
these  last  desperate  foemen,  the  Iron  Three — so 
to  be  remembered  evermore  in  the  land  of  the 
tragedy — met  their  end.  Together,  as  they  had 
lived  and  striven,  so  they  died — and  the  savage 
conquerors,  even  amid  the  counting  of  their  own 
almost  numberless  dead,  the  binding  up  of  the 
wounds  of  which  scarcely  one  among  the  living 
knew  the  lack,  felt  reverence  enough  for  those 
who  had  so  stoutly  and  sternly  defied  them  to  the 
deadly  end  to  bury  them,  unshamed  and  un- 
stripped,  still  clad  in  their  stained  and  dinted 
armor,  on  the  spot  where  they  fell. 

Even  so  and  there  The  Three  found  sepulture — 
and  there,  as  the  years  went  by,  swiftly  grew  up 
ward  three  young  and  graceful  saplings  of  fir, 
slender  and  willowy  at  first,  but  speedily  strength 
ening  into  stately  and  vigorous  young  trees.  Yet 
later,  as  the  counting  by  years  gave  place  to  reck 
oning  by  decades,  they  had  grown  into  forest 
giants  which  now,  with  the  lapse  of  centuries, 
towered  in  air,  side  by  side,  to  a  height  almost 
incredible.  Still  were  they  strong  and  vigorous, 
chiefs  among  giants,  and  still  they  gave  forth,  far 
in  the  upper  air,  with  every  breeze  that  blew,  that 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     53 

constant  sound  and  semblance  of  battle,  of  echo 
ing  blow  and  groan  of  dying  men,  which  had 
caused  the  great  group  to  be  known  far  and  wide 
as  monument  and  memorial  of  the  Three  Iron 
Men. 

The  old  story,  vivid  as  he  had  heard  it  in  his 
childhood  days,  flitted  through  Manuel's  mind  as 
he  waited  in  the  shadow  of  the  great  tree-trunks. 
The  weird  battle-clamor  echoed  far  above  his 
head  as  the  heavy  upper  limbs  swayed  slightly  in 
such  breeze  as  was  blowing  high  aloft.  Continu 
ously  came  down  the  sound  of  blow  and  death- 
cry — and,  stout-hearted  as  the  lad  had  ever  been, 
it  was  with  distinct  relief  that  he  at  length  de 
cided  that  Zingaro  had  rested  sufficiently  to  un 
dertake  the  passing  of  the  broad  stream  before 
him. 

Yet  he  could  not  but  smile  as  he  mounted,  re 
membering  even  in  the  midst  of  his  awe,  how  lit 
tle  the  thought  of  what  now  so  oppressed  him  had 
troubled  his  mind  while  the  scene  of  the  legend 
was  yet  distant.  Battle  Hill,  during  the  hours 
that  he  had  been  hastening  toward  it,  had  simply 
meant  to  him  a  point  where  it  behooved  him  to 
cross  the  Laguna,  since  directly  eastward,  and 
seven  miles  away — almost,  indeed,  upon  that  spot 
where  the  beautiful  City  of  Roses  was  afterward 
to  spring  into  being — was  the  Rivas  hacienda,  the 
end  of  his  journey. 

Another  reason  for  crossing  here  was  that  the 
great  watercourse,  so  formidable  in  winter, 
though  almost  dry  in  summer,  while  deeper  just 
here  than  at  many  other  points,  was  much  nar- 


54    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

rower.  This  was  due  to  the  fact  that  on  the  east 
ern  side,  and  just  opposite  the  bold  bluff  upon 
which  Manuel  stood,  a  knoll  caused  the  shore  to 
project  out  much  farther  toward  the  center  than  it 
did  elsewhere  for  miles. 

Despite  this  fact,  however,  Manuel  knew  that 
nearly  if  not  quite  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  water 
lay  between  the  opposite  shores,  and  he  could  only 
hope  that  it  might  be  possible  to  wade  the  greater 
portion  of  the  distance.  On  his  own  side  it  would 
have  to  be  a  swim  from  the  first  plunge,  but  op 
posite  he  knew  that  the  shore  shelved  gradually. 

He  had  looked  well  to  his  girths  before  re 
mounting,  and  with  a  word  to  Zingaro,  already 
impatient,  he  made  his  way,  zigzagging  but  as 
rapidly  as  possible,  down  the  steep  incline  to  the 
water's  edge.  At  the  brink  he  paused  a  moment, 
and  it  probably  would  not  have  lessened  the  awe 
still  possessing  him  could  he  have  anticipated 
that  even  on  the  spot  where  now  he  stood,  on  a 
day  yet  to  come,  a  foul  crime  was  to  be  committed, 
and  Salvador  the  Outlaw,  darkly  famous  in  later 
years,  was  to  add  one  more  chapter  to  the  black 
career  so  soon  after  this  last  deed  to  end  upon 
the  scaffold. 

But  all  this,  fortunately  for  the  youth's  peace  of 
mind,  already  rapidly  recovering,  was  still  far  in 
the  future,  and  his  pause  on  the  brink  was  but  that 
he  might  give  a  moment's  thought  to  the  selection 
of  a  proper  point  at  which  to  urge  his  horse  into 
the  broad  stream.  A  circumstance  which  might 
have  puzzled  many  a  person  less  thoroughly  ac 
quainted  with  the  governing  conditions  than  Man- 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    55 

uel  was  the  fact  that  the  volume  of  water  which  he 
now  had  to  cross  was  immensely  greater  than  that 
of  the  creek  it  flowed  into,  and  which  he  had  al 
ready  successfully  passed  at  a  point  below  the 
junction  of  the  two  streams.  Manuel  knew  that  it 
was  simply  the  result  of  the  Laguna  having  spread 
out,  lake-like,  over  all  the  available  low-lying 
ground,  through  the  inability  of  its  narrow  outlet 
to  carry  off,  with  sufficient  rapidity,  the  accumu 
lation  of  water  resulting  from  the  recent  heavy 
rains.  But  the  explanation,  if  it  occurred  to  him 
at  the  moment,  did  not  cause  him  to  regard  with 
any  more  pleasure  the  crossing  now  to  be  made. 

But  the  stout-hearted  lad  gave  little  time  to 
meditation.  Dismounting,  he  once  more  looked 
to  his  girth,  then  swung  himself  into  the  saddle 
again  and  made  his  way  to  the  point  he  had  se 
lected.  Here,  too,  he  spent  little  time  in  uselessly 
contemplating  what  lay  before  him. 

"In,  Zingaro;  in!"  he  shouted,  and  the  brave 
horse  took  the  plunge. 

Thanks  to  the  backwater  which  had  so  swollen 
the  Laguna,  there  was  little  current,  and,  save 
such  difficulty  as  might  be  caused  by  submerged 
clumps  of  willows,  there  was  nothing  to  impede 
the  progress  of  a  horse  that  had  been  trained  to 
swim  with  a  rider  on  its  back.  Zingaro  was  such 
an  animal,  and  once  more,  as  the  horse  glided 
swiftly  through  the  dark  water  toward  the  oppo 
site  shore,  Manuel  found  cause  to  bless  the  fore 
thought  that  had  led  him  to  teach  this,  his  favor 
ite  steed,  everything  that  it  seemed  possible  for  a 
horse  to  learn.  It  was  a  long,  long  passage  before 


56     THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

the  gallant  gray's  feet  struck  bottom  in  the  shoal 
ing  water  on  the  eastern  side,  but  never  once  did 
the  splendid  steed  falter,  never  once  did  he  lose 
his  confidence  in  the  gently  guiding  hand  of  his 
rider.  Indeed,  as  the  horse  made  the  remainder 
of  the  passage  to  shore,  Manuel,  feeling  him  stum 
ble  and  plunge,  owing  to  the  muddy  and  uneven 
bottom,  had  cause  to  regret  that  the  deep  water 
had  not  extended  entirely  to  land. 

But  the  shore  was  reached  at  last,  and  then 
Manuel  sprang  to  the  ground  to  wring  the  water 
from  his  drenched  clothing,  and  to  hug  Zingaro's 
damp  head  in  his  arms  and  against  his  breast 
with  more  genuine  affection,  perhaps,  than  many 
a  man  would  manifest  toward  a  brother. 

"Zingaro,  caro  Zingaro!"  he  murmured  lov 
ingly.  "Oh,  the  brave  horse!  Had  ever  master 
one  like  thee  before?" 

Zingaro  rubbed  his  damp  nose  against  Man 
uel's  cheek,  as  if  to  show  how  thoroughly  he  un 
derstood  it  all ;  then  suddenly  threw  his  head  high 
and  stood  rigid  in  a  way  that  Manuel  well  under 
stood  meant  alarm.  But  he  had  himself  heard  the 
sound  which  had  attracted  the  animal's  keen  at 
tention. 


CHAPTER  X 

TELLING  OF  AN  ODD  MEETING  ON  THE  LAGUNA  SHORE, 
AND  OF  WHAT  CAME  OF  IT 

OVER  the  gently  sloping  knolls  bordering  the 
eastern  shore  of  the  Laguna  a  horseman 
was  riding  at  a  slow  "lope,"  the  hoofs  of  his 
steed  falling  in  dull  though  rhythmic  cadence  upon 
the  soft  earth.  It  was  not  this  sound,  however, 
which  had  first  reached  the  ears  of  Manuel  and 
Zingaro,  but  rather  the  voice  of  the  strange  rider. 
For  as  he  rode  he  sang  a  verse  of  a  California 
vaquero  love-song. 

"Oh,  closed  be  all  eyes  but  thine  own,  my  sweety 

And  dim  be  the  kindly  stars! 
Hoiv  else  shall  I  come  to  thy  dear,  dear  feet, 

When  the  hate  of  thy  kindred  bars? 
And  sivift  be  thy  silent  hoofs,  my  steed, 
Swift,  sivift,  as  the  leagues  fly  by! 
Thou  knoivest  what  need 
Have  I  of  thy  speed 
Till  the  home  of  my  foes  be  nigh; 
The  home  of  my  foes, 
Where  divelleth  the  rose 
For  the  breath  of  whose  lips  I  would  die! 
Yes,  deem  myself  blessed  to  die!" 

57 


58    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

No  one  who  rode  thus  in  gay  and  careless  ease 
could  be  a  midnight  waylayer,  the  very  essence 
of  whose  policy  should  be  silence  and  secrecy. 
But  as  Manuel  listened  his  brows  drew  together, 
and  into  his  heart  came  a  feeling  more  of  con 
sternation  than  any  previous  experience  of  the 
night  had  been  sufficient  to  cause.  Half  mechani 
cally,  as  he  noted  that  the  newcomer  must  in  a 
moment  be  upon  him,  he  glanced  about  as  if  seek 
ing  a  possibility  of  concealment.  But  on  this  side 
of  the  Laguna  there  was  no  underwood,  nothing 
but  tall  white  oaks,  whose  bare  trunks  might  hide 
a  man,  but  certainly  could  not  conceal  a  horse. 
In  any  case,  the  thought  of  seeking  concealment 
was  not  one  to  remain  in  Manuel's  mind  for  more 
than  a  fleeting  instant. 

But  it  was  with  an  ejaculation  that  was  some 
thing  between  a  curse  and  a  groan  that  he  mut 
tered,  shaking  his  head : 

"Had  it  been  any  one  else — or  he — at  any  other 
time!" 

Then  he  stepped  forward  as  if  to  meet  the 
horseman,  and  the  latter,  seeing  him,  pulled  up  his 
steed  in  an  instant. 

"Well  met  in  the  dark,  amigo,"  called  out  the 
stranger,  in  a  voice  fearless  and  gay,  and  mani 
festly  belonging  to  one  who  was  afraid  of  nothing. 
"Who,  beside  myself,  is  crazy  enough  to  be  roam 
ing  about  this  water-sodden  wilderness  at  this 
hour?" 

"Is  it  you,  Herrera?"  said  Manuel,  in  a  tone 
which  gave  no  hint  of  the  disturbed  condition  of 
his  thoughts. 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     59 

"Yes,  it  is  I,  Herrera.  And  I  should  know  your 
voice.  But  it  cannot  be  that  you  are  Manuel 
de  Guerra.  No,  no ;  fate  could  not  be  so  kind  to 
me  as  that." 

All  the  laughter  had  gone  from  the  stranger's 
voice,  which  now  thrilled  with  what  seemed  a 
mingling  of  fierceness  and  triumph.  But  Manuel 
spoke  as  calmly  as  before. 

"I  am  Manuel  de  Guerra,"  he  said. 

Without  a  word  Herrera  leaped  down  from  his 
saddle,  hitched  his  horse  to  a  tree  with  a  few  deft 
turns  of  a  lariat,  and  strode  to  Manuel's  side. 

"I  have  waited  long  for  a  meeting  such  as  this, 
Senor  de  Guerra,"  he  said  gravely.  "I  do  not 
do  such  wrong  to  your  courage  as  to  suggest  that 
my  ill  success  in  securing  it  earlier  was  of  your 
making.  But  now  that  we  have  met  at  last  I 
fancy  we  need  waste  no  words." 

Manuel  ground  his  teeth.  That  this  man,  the 
one  deadly  foe  he,  up  to  this  night,  had  believed 
he  had,  should  meet  him  now!  He  feared  him 
not.  Gentle-mannered,  kindly-natured  youth  that 
he  was,  Manuel  de  Guerra  had  never  before  seen 
the  time  when  he  shrunk  from  peril.  But  that  the 
boyish  and  almost  wholly  causeless  quarrel  of 
three  months  before  should  rise  up  for  final  and 
deadly  settlement  now ! 

And  this  man,  too,  in  earlier  days,  had  been  his 
friend  and  comrade — rode  with  him,  hunted  with 
him — yes,  fought  with  him!  A  few  hasty  words — 
worst  of  all,  a  blow! — had  changed  all,  and  the 
deadly  reckoning  which  older  friends  had  inter- 


60    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

fered  with  at  the  time  of  the  quarrel  was  de 
manded  at  last — and  to-night. 

"You  do  not  answer  me,"  said  Herrera,  as 
Manuel  still  struggled  with  his  confusing 
thoughts. 

"I  have  just  swum  the  Laguna,"  said  De  Guer- 
ra,  uttering  the  first  words  that  came  to  his 
tongue. 

"And  your  powder  is  wet,"  said  Herrera,  with 
a  courteous  deadliness  which  was  appalling. 
"Bueno!  What  need  have  we  for  pistols! 
Though  I  might  lend  you  one  of  mine,  did  you 
desire.  But  it  is  simpler  otherwise.  See — I 
hang  them  here  upon  my  saddle.  I  keep  only  my 
knife.  You  have  your  own.  The  water  has  not 
harmed  that.  We  are  equal  as  to  weapons.  Shall 
we  begin,  Senor?" 

Still  the  same  deadly  courteousness.  Still  the 
same  calm  taking  for  granted  that  there  could  be 
but  one  issue  of  this  chance  meeting.  Manuel 
could  have  cursed  aloud. 

"Herrera,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "this  cannot  be 
to-night,  You  must  wait." 

Herrera  started,  but  when  he  spoke  his  voice 
was  still  courteous. 

"I  have  already  waited  long,  Sefior.  I  have 
waited — and  the  burn  on  my  cheek  does  not  heal. ' ' 

"I  know,  I  know.  Still,  even  though  you  think 
me  coward,  let  it  be  as  I  say.  To-night  I  cannot 
fight  you. ' ' 

"I  have  no  thought  of  charging  you  with  cow 
ardice.  The  day  has  been — "  and  here  this 
strange  man's  voice  faltered  and  trembled — 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     61 

"when  I  would  have  had  the  life  of  any  one  who 
uttered  that  word  of  Manuel  de  Guerra.  But— 
and  now  once  more  spoke  the  coldly,  calmly,  cour 
teous  voice  again — "may  I  ask  so  much  of  the 
Senor's  confidence  as  an  explanation?  It  is  not 
like  him — this  refusal  to  give  the  man  he  has  in 
jured  a  chance  to  wipe  out  the  memory  of  that 
wrong. ' ' 

"Why  not?"  exclaimed  Manuel,  speaking  his 
thought  aloud.  "Herrera,  you  know  of  Pancha 
Rivas.  To-night  I  am  expected  at  her  father's 
house.  There  are  those  who  seek  to  bar  my  com 
ing — those  who  have  taught  her  to  fear  that  I 
am  faithless  and  dishonored.  Delay  me  now,  and 
you  aid  those  who  have  already  waylaid  me  on 
my  journey,  driven  me  far  from  my  path,  and 
sought  in  every  way  to  make  me  fail.  If  we  are 
to  fight  to-night,  why,  then,  I  must  hope  that  you 
kill  me,  for  otherwise  I  see  delay  and  failure  and 
dishonor. ' ' 

"Who  is  it,"  and  there  seemed  now  a  new  tone 
in  Herrera 's  voice,  "that  has  waylaid  you  to 
night?  Is  it  Gonzales  and  his  gang?" 

"I  fear  so.  They  stopped  me  far  to  the  north 
ward,  and  it  was  because  of  them  that  I  came  by 
the  west  shore.  It  was  only  so  that  I  escaped 
them." 

"You  have  not  escaped  them,  De  Guerra,  not 
yet.  I  did  not  understand,  but  an  hour  ago, 
yonder  to  the  northeast,  a  troop  of  the  cutthroats 
passed  me,  riding  south.  They  stopped  to  learn 
my  name  and  peer  into  my  face,  but  long  before 
this  they  have  planted  themselves  between  here 


62     THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

and  the  Rivas  Rancho.  They  have  learned  of 
your  changed  route  and  that  you  passed  them 
by." 

"Can  it,  indeed,  be  so?" 

"It  is.  But  you  have  no  time  to  argue.  Is  your 
horse  rested?  Into  the  saddle,  then,  and  on,  and 
take  care  of  yourself.  Stay — your  pistols  are 
water-soaked.  Take  mine — they  are  dry  and  they 
are  loaded.  You  can  return  them  when  we  meet 
again — for  meet  again  we  shall,  Manuel  de  Guer- 
ra,  and  then  will  our  own  quarrel  find  settle 
ment.  ' ' 

Once  more  Herrera's  voice  was  cold  and  stern, 
but  Manuel  drew  nearer  to  him  and  took  his  re 
luctant  hand. 

"Francisco,"  he  said,  "we  may  meet  again,  but 
it  can  never  be  the  meeting  that  you  mean. 
Though  you  put  the  worst  insult  upon  me,  I  can 
never  forget  this  night  nor  the  old  friendship. 
Ah,  do  not  put  your  hand  to  your  cheek.  Fran 
cisco — comrade — brother,  will  it  make  you  forget 
that  unlucky  day  if  I  say  that  I  was  wrong — if  I 
beg  you  to  forgive  me  ? " 

Then  Herrera  gave  one  great,  gasping  sob  and 
flung  his  arms  about  Manuel,  heedless  of  the 
water- soaked  garments,  and  hugged  him  half 
madly  to  his  breast.  Only  for  a  moment.  Then, 
he  sprang  away,  tore  loose  the  lariat  that  held 
his  horse,  and  the  next  instant  was  in  the  saddle. 

"Mount,  mount!"  he  said  in  a  voice  which  he 
seemed    to    strive    to    render    cold    and    fierce. 
"Mount,  and  let  us  start." 
You?    Are  you  coming?" 


i  t 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     63 

"Am  I  not?    Could  I  let  you  go  alone — now?" 

And  then,  with  a  swift  change  from  the  emo 
tion  of  the  moment  before,  Herrera  laughed  out, 
not  loudly  but  with  gay  light-heartedness. 

"Vain  man!"  he  said.  "May  I,  too,  not  have 
my  own  purposes  to  serve?  Is  there  but  a  single 
pair  of  soft  eyes  under  old  Rivas'  roof?  Oh,  Man 
uel,  Manuel,"  he  added,  laughing  again,  but  with 
a  strange  suggestion  of  reverence  amid  the  wild 
jest  of  his  words,  "heaven  itself  must  have  sent 
us  both  to  this  blessed  mud-hole  to-night," 

Manuel  wrung  Herrera 's  hand,  and  a  moment 
later  the  two  friends,  so  fiercely  estranged,  so 
strangely  brought  together,  dashed  away  east 
ward,  side  by  side. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  STKUGGLE   IN   THE   DARK  AT   THE   FOED,  AND   THE 
COMING  OF  THE  NINE  SWORDS 

FOR  three  miles  the  way  lay  over  and  among 
a  succession  of  low-lying  knolls,  the  config 
uration  of  the  ground  being  such  that  the  water 
precipitated  during  the  recent  heavy  rains  had 
quite  thoroughly  drained  away.  The  traveling 
was  good,  therefore,  the  occasional  small  water 
courses  presenting  no  obstacle  to  the  rapid  prog 
ress  of  the  two  spirited  steeds,  both  animals  leap 
ing  them  as  they  came  in  the  way  without  a  pause 
in  their  flight.  A  larger  stream,  through  which 
the  horses  dashed  in  a  moment,  half  swimming, 
half  wading,  brought  them  to  the  end  of  this  por 
tion  of  the  territory  to  be  traversed. 

Before  them  now  lay  two  miles  of  perfectly 
level  land,  the  soil  being  of  a  heavy  adobe  forma 
tion,  in  its  damp  condition  exceedingly  disagree 
able  to  pass  over.  But  the  spirited  steeds  which 
Manuel  and  Herrera  rode  scarcely  slackened  in 
their  speed  until  the  riders  forced  them  to  do  so, 
desiring  to  save  their  strength  for  the  better 
ground  beyond. 

But  first  to  be  passed  and  marking  the  eastern 
boundary  of  the  adobe  plain,  was  a  deep  stream, 

64 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     65 

with  high  and  precipitous  banks,  later  to  be  called 
"Pino  Creek, "  and  in  its  swollen  condition  in 
that  early  day,  long  before  the  advent  of  bridges 
in  Sonoma,  a  decidedly  formidable  obstacle. 

Doubly  formidable  it  seemed  to  both  Manuel 
and  Herrera,  since  the  same  thought  was  in  the 
mind  of  each  that  here,  if  the  waylayers  were  still 
in  the  path,  they  would  be  found. 

Manuel  knew  of  but  one  place  in  many  miles 
where  the  banks  on  either  side  of  the  stream  were 
of  such  a  character  that  a  crossing  could  be  made 
with  a  horse.  Toward  this  point  he  directed  his 
course,  though  with  many  misgivings. 

And  the  event  fully  justified  them.  Out  from 
the  darkness  on  every  side,  as  they  dashed  up  to 
the  bank  of  the  stream,  sprang  what  seemed  a 
host  of  horsemen.  The  friends  saw  them  at  the 
same  instant,  and  into  the  minds  of  both  leaped 
the  same  thought. 

It  was  Herrera  who  gave  it  voice. 

"On  on!"  he  shouted  from  his  position  a 
horse's  length  in  the  rear.  "Dash  through  them, 
Manuel !  It  is  our  only  chance ! ' ' 

On  this  Manuel  had  already  and  instantane 
ously  determined.  He  set  his  teeth  savagely,  bent 
low  in  the  saddle,  and  for  once  touched  Zingaro 
with  the  spur. 

Three  horsemen  had  drawn  themselves  up  just 
where  the  path  descended  to  the  water's  edge. 
Like  a  thunderbolt  Zingaro  dashed  into  the  group, 
and  the  center  rider  and  horse  went  headlong 
over  the  bank  and  into  the  turbid  stream  below. 
The  two  other  men  bent  forward  to  seize  Man- 


66     THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

uel's  bridle-reins,  but  the  effort  was  fruitless,  and 
the  next  instant  Herrera  rode  one  of  them  down 
and  dashed  the  other  from  his  saddle  with  a 
savage  back-handed  blow.  A  second  later,  and 
the  horses  of  the  two  friends  plunged  madly  into 
the  stream. 

It  was  very  deep,  and  both  animals  had  to  swim. 
Grouped  on  the  bank  above  them,  and  distinct 
against  the  sky,  Manuel,  as  he  glanced  back,  could 
see  a  large  number  of  horsemen,  the  comrades  of 
those  whom  Herrera  and  himself  had  ridden 
down.  The  two  friends,  in  their  position  between 
the  banks,  to  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  their 
horses  and  themselves  were  almost  wholly  sub 
merged,  were  in  darkness.  Still,  even  in  the  mad 
excitement  of  the  moment,  Manuel  found  an  in 
stant  to  wonder  why  it  was  that  they  were  not 
fired  on.  He  was  soon  to  learn  the  reason. 

The  stream  was  crossed  in  safety,  and  up  the 
steep  bank  the  two  horses  scrambled,  cat-like, 
sure-footed  as  antelopes.  In  a  moment  they  were 
on  the  top. 

Then  Herrera  laughed  aloud. 

"Safely  through,  Manuel!"  he  cried.  "A  hard 
passage,  but  your  troubles  are  over  now." 

"Not  yet!"  shouted  a  voice  from  the  darkness, 
and  with  the  words  came  the  vicious  swish  of  the 
lariat,  and  Manuel  felt  the  deadly  noose  settle 
over  his  shoulders.  But  the  young  De  Guerra 
knew  the  one  thing  to  do,  and  did  it.  The  cord 
was  drawn  tight  in  an  instant,  but  yet  more 
swiftly  he  drew  his  knife,  and  he  had  barely  felt 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    67 

the  first  strain  when  he  was  once  more  free,  with 
Zingaro  plunging  onward  unimpeded. 

But,  alas!  from  behind  him  came  a  cry,  ut 
tered  in  the  bravest  spirit,  but  fated  to  have  un 
fortunate  effects.  It  was  the  voice  of  his  friend 
he  heard: 

"Manuel,  I  am  caught !  Ride  on,  ride  on !  while 
I  keep  the  scoundrels  in  play.7' 

But  Manuel  did  not  ride  on.  Instead  he  turned 
without  the  pause  of  a  second,  and  another  in 
stant  saw  him  plunging  into  the  dark  and  strug 
gling  mass  of  horses  and  men,  the  center  figure 
of  which  he  knew  was  his  friend. 

The  impetus  of  Zingaro 's  charge  carried  him 
well  into  the  mass,  and  Manuel,  striking  madly 
about  him  with  the  butt  of  one  of  Herrera 's  pis 
tols,  soon  cleared  a  space  around  him.  He  could 
not  see  to  fire  with  any  certainty,  and  he  disliked 
to  be  the  first  to  make  the  strange  contest  which 
the  night  had  seen  him  drawn  into  a  fight  to  the 
death.  For  that  reason,  too,  he  had  replaced  his 
knife  in  its  sheath. 

Bending  low,  he  could  dimly  see  that  some  one, 
Herrera  undoubtedly,  was  struggling  to  free  him 
self  from  the  noose  of  a  lariat.  Manuel  caught 
him  by  the  arm  and  aided  him,  intending  that  he 
should  mount  behind  him  on  Zingaro,  who  could 
carry  a  double  burden  at  least  a  short  distance, 
and  out  of  the  press  of  enemies.  But  even  as  the 
thought  formed  in  his  mind,  some  one  cut  the  girth 
of  his  saddle  from  the  other  side,  and  the  strain 
of  his  effort  to  aid  Herrera  caused  him  to  fall 
headlong. 


68     THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

He  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant,  with  Herrera, 
now  fully  freed,  beside  him.  But  around  them 
was  a  complete  circle  of  foes,  and  more  than  one 
savage  voice  was  uttering  cries  that  boded  ill  for 
the  friends. 

"Kill  them  —  kill  the  misbegotten  dogs!" 
shouted  some  one.  "Kill  them  both — and  now!" 

"Yes,  kill  them,"  added  a  colder  voice.  "It  is 
the  only  safe  way.  What  will  Vallejo  say  of  this 
if  they  live  to  tell!" 

Herrera  had  his  knife  in  his  hand.  Now  he 
said  to  Manuel : 

"Let  me  have  one  of  my  pistols,  Manuel.  This 
is  to  be  to  the  death." 

It  seemed  so,  for  with  a  growling,  snarling  rush 
the  crowd  swept  upon  them. 

Manuel  fancied  that  he  heard  some  one  who 
spoke  in  terms  of  authority  endeavoring  to  hold 
the  assailants  back,  but  if  the  effort  were  made  it 
was  futile.  The  men  were  now  too  ripe  for  mis 
chief  to  be  controlled. 

"Back  to  back,  Manuel,"  said  Herrera  calmly, 
as  he  drove  his  dirk  into  the  breast  of  a  man  who 
had  just  failed  in  an  attempt  to  slash  his  throat 
open,  and  back  to  back,  therefore,  the  two  men 
fought  on. 

The  darkness  favored  them,  but  their  position 
was  desperate  in  the  last  degree,  and  there  could 
be,  as  it  seemed,  but  one  ending.  Their  enemies 
who  had  firearms  hesitated  to  use  them,  for  fear 
of  injuring  one  another,  but  with  every  other  sort 
of  weapon  the  two  friends  were  savagely  assailed. 
Men  rushed  upon  them  with  drawn  knives, 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     69 

slashed  at  them  with  great  Spanish  sabers,  or 
strove  to  transfix  them  with  long  ranchero  spears. 
Here,  too,  the  darkness  was,  in  a  measure,  to  the 
advantage  of  the  two  men  striving  so  desperately 
against  these  overwhelming  odds.  Nevertheless, 
not  a  moment  had  passed  before  both  were 
wounded.  Herrera's  hurt  was  trifling,  but  a  half- 
breed  savage  drove  a  lance  at  Manuel's  breast 
with  so  vicious  a  purpose  that  it  must  have  slain 
him  had  he  not,  at  the  instant  of  the  blow,  shot 
the  brute  dead.  As  it  was,  the  spear  pierced  deep 
in  his  breast,  and  though  he  uttered  no  word  that 
might  discourage  his  comrade,  he  felt  himself 
growing  steadily  weaker  as  he  fought  on. 

And  now,  as  the  assailants  apparently  realized 
all  in  a  moment  the  disadvantage  to  them  of  the 
darkness,  a  cry  arose  for  torches.  Instantane 
ously,  as  it  seemed,  a  half-dozen  were  produced  or 
improvised,  and  waved  aloft  in  such  a  manner 
that  their  light  fell  upon  the  desperately  battling 
pair.  And  now,  indeed,  it  seemed  that  the  end  had 
come. 

But  in  that  strange  lull  which  is  so  often  a 
feature  of  a  desperate  conflict  just  before  the 
striking  of  the  last  blow  there  came  an  interrup 
tion. 

It  was  a  shrill,  piercing  cry,  uttered  in  a  boyish 
voice,  but  one  which  seemed  to  quiver  and  thrill 
as  with  a  lustful  joy  born  of  anticipated  conflict : 

"Morales!  Morales!  Make  way  for  the  Nine 
Swords !" 

Manuel's  heart  leaped  within  him,  for  he  knew 
the  voice  of  Diego,  youngest  brother  of  Dolores. 


70    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

And  the  girl  he  loved  had  somehow  heard  of  his 
peril,  and  sent  her  kinsmen  to  his  rescue.  And 
this  she  had  done,  even  though  that  sending 
should  lead  him  to  her  rival ! 

But  now  the  cry  was  repeated,  nearer  at  hand 
and  in  deeper  volume,  for  it  was  not  alone  the 
youngest  brother  who  this  time  gave  it  voice. 

"Make  way!  Make  way!  Make  way  for  the 
Morales ! ' ' 

The  thunder  of  rushing  hoofs  blended  with  the 
cry,  and,  while  its  echoes  yet  rang  in  the  air, 
through  the  circle  of  Manuel's  foes,  and  into  the 
glow  of  the  blazing  torches,  burst  the  Nine 
Swords ! 

Diego  rode  first,  for  in  his  wild  eagerness  to 
engage  in  this,  his  first  warlike  adventure,  the- 
boy  had  pressed  in  advance  of  all  the  others,  even 
of  Carlos,  the  grim  head  of  his  house.  It  was  he 
who,  seeming  to  take  in  everything  in  an  instant's 
glance,  spurred  his  horse  fiercely  around  and 
around,  just  within  the  circle  of  Manuel's  foes, 
waving  his  long  saber  in  the  faces  of  those  before 
him,  and  shouting  savagely : 

' '  Back,  back,  you  dogs !  Let  me  see  the  next 
hound  that  dares  to  lift  a  hand  against  them ! ' ' 

But  his  brothers  had  already  rendered  such  a 
thing  impossible,  for  they  had  so  grouped  their 
horses  as  to  form  about  the  two  to  whose  aid  they 
had  come,  a  wall  which  no  foe  could  hope  to  pene 
trate.  Then,  while  they  so  sat  upon  their  steeds, 
each  man  with  his  bare  saber  in  his  hand,  ready 
for  instant  use,  Carlos  spoke,  and  in  his  cool  and 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    71 

cutting  tones  there  was  something  that  seemed 
like  the  lash  of  a  whip. 

"So  it  seems  that  the  warning  was  correct,  and 
we  have  come  only  in  time.  But  who,  may  I  ask, 
is  the  leader  of  this  gang  of  caballero  cutthroats? 
To  know  him  would  be  distinguished  honor." 

No  one  answered,  but  many  glances  turned  in 
stinctively  in  one  direction.  Carlos'  own  eyes 
followed,  but  all  he  could  see  was  a  horseman 
making  his  way  rapidly  from  the  circle  of  the 
light.  The  next  moment  the  sound  of  rapidly 
falling  hoofs  told  of  a  hasty  departure. 

"Ah,  the  gentleman  is  modest,"  resumed  Car 
los  pleasantly.  "Sad  that  he  should  seem  to  be 
ashamed  of  such  a  gallant  deed  as  this.  It  is 
strange,  too,  that  there  should  be  here  so  many 
gallant  caballeros  whom  I  have  seen  about  the 
ranch o  of  Senor  Gronzales.  How  angry  the  Sefior 
would  doubtless  be  did  he  know  of  it." 

Some  of  the  ruffian  gang  looked  at  one  another 
uneasily,  some  scowled,  but,  three  to  one  as  they 
were,  no  one  made  a  threatening  move  toward  the 
Nine  Swords  or  those  they  guarded. 

"Come,  Senors,"  remarked  Carlos  again,  speak 
ing  still  with  the  touch  of  sullen  sarcasm  in  his 
calm  voice,  "don't  you  think  you  had  better  be 
moving  ?  The  adventure  is  probably  over  for  this 
once,  and  here  on  the  ground  I  see  two  or  three 
caballeros — your  friends,  doubtless — who  might 
be  the  better  for  a  little  looking  after.  This  fel 
low  here  with  half  of  his  head  blown  off,  probably 
does  not  need  your  kind  attention,  nor  does  that 
other  with  the  very  neat  hole  in  the  breast  of  his 


72    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

shirt.    But  there  are  a  few  who  seem  to  have  life 
enough  left  to  groan. " 

The  scowls  deepened  on  the  sullen  faces  into 
which  he  gazed,  but  still  no  move  was  made 
against  himself  or  his  brethren.  Then,  very 
calmly,  Carlos  spoke  a  few  words  to  his  brothers, 
and  The  Nine,  still  keeping  the  two  friends  in 
their  midst,  moved  slowly  away  from  the  spot 
and  the  corpses  that  cumbered  it. 

As  soon  as  the  darkness  hid  them  Carlos  halted. 

"Seiiors,"  he  said,  "I  see  you  have  both  lost 
your  horses,  doubtless  during  the  trouble  yonder. 
We  cannot  find  them  to-night,  and  you  must 
mount  with  us.  You,  Caballero,  whom  I  think  T 
remember  as  Sefior  Francisco  Herrera,  will 
please  make  use  of  Diego's  steed.  As  for  you, 
Manuel — " 

Here    is    Manuel's    horse    now!"    exclaimed 
Diego.    t  i  Was  there  ever  such  another  ? ' ' 

It  was  true  enough.  Into  the  group  Zingaro, 
unsaddled  and  with  his  bridle-reins  dandling  on 
the  ground,  came  pushing  his  way.  As  he  found 
his  master  he  uttered  a  low  whinny. 

"Good  horse,  brave  Zingaro!"  muttered  Man 
uel  faintly ;  then  fell  lifelessly  as  a  log  to  the  earth. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    SUIT    THAT   WAS    PLEADED   IN   VAIN    AT   THE    CASA 
RIVAS,>ND  THE  BLACK  FALSEHOOD  THAT  FOLLOWED 

BUT  while  the  nine  brothers  gathered  sorrow 
ing  about  the  unconscious  form  that  lay  at 
their  feet,  the  horseman  who  had  stolen  away  from 
the  throng  of  Manuel's  enemies  was  dashing 
recklessly  eastward.  Black  rage  was  in  his 
heart — black  rage  and  a  fierce  resolve  that  in 
spite  of  all  he  would  yet  win  that  upon  which  he 
had  set  his  soul;  that  for  which  he  had  already 
striven  so  desperately,  even  at  the  cost  of  treach 
ery  and  attempted  murder.  Twice  that  night  had 
his  plans  been  foiled,  but  there  was  yet  another 
effort  to  be  made,  and  deep  within  his  inner  con 
sciousness  he  swore  an  oath,  unholy  though  un 
spoken,  that  this  time  not  the  Nine  Swords  of 
Morales  nor  anything  above  earth  or  under 
heaven  should  balk  his  scheming.  True,  what  he 
now  meditated  was  unworthy  of  a  caballero,  but, 
after  all,  the  waylaying  and  blood-letting  which 
he  had  not  found  particularly  distasteful  earlier 
in  the  night  were  also  open  to  criticism.  Let  fate 
grant  him  but  time  and  opportunity  now  and  he 
would  not  fail. 

So  he  spurred  savagely  on,  giving  his  horse  no 


74     THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

rest,  whether  in  ascending  or  descending  the 
knolls  which  lay  in  his  path  for  the  first  mile  of 
his  journey,  nor  suffering  him  to  slacken  in  his 
speed  in  crossing  the  muddy  adobe  plain  that  lay 
beyond.  Over  this  the  traveling  was  wearisome 
to  the  last  degree,  and  though  the  distance  that  he 
had  to  go  was  short,  it  was  a  thoroughly  blown 
steed  from  which  he  finally  sprang  at  the  gateway 
of  Don  Pedro  Rivas'  rancho  residence. 

Once  within  the  doors  of  the  casa,  it  was  a  large 
and  a  merry  assemblage  through  which  Gonzales 
threaded  his  way,  searching  for  Pancha  Rivas. 
Gay  young  caballeros  from  as  far  away  as  So 
noma  and  San  Rafael  were  there,  and  with  them 
their  sisters  or  other  female  relatives,  dark-eyed 
senoritas,  for  whom  distance  had  no  more  terror 
than  it  had  for  their  brothers.  Well  might  it  be 
so  since  there  was  not  one  among  them  but  could 
ride  from  dawn  till  dusk  without  dreaming  of 
fatigue.  Elder  women  were  there  and  graver 
senors  also,  and  even  a  stranger  need  not  have 
been  long  in  the  gathering  without  discovering 
that  it  was  some  more  than  ordinary  circumstance 
that  had  drawn  it  together. 

Gonzales,  as  he  moved  on  through  the  throng, 
his  dress  disarranged  and  spattered  with  mud, 
was  the  target  for  numerous  remarks  and  not  a 
few  questions.  He  answered  none  of  them,  walk 
ing  steadily  forward,  but  one  speech  at  least, 
though  uttered  by  perhaps  the  brightest  maiden 
there,  that  maiden  his  own  sister,  caused  his 
cheek  to  pale  and  his  lips  to  writhe. 

"Ah,  my  lost  brother  at  last.     A  late  guest, 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     75 

Ramon — a  late  and  a  muddy.    But  what  news  do 
you  bring  of  the  greater  laggard!" 

A  very  lovely  maid,  though  little  more  than  a 
child,  was  this  dark-eyed  and  laughing  Juanita, 
and  perhaps  the  truest  affection  of  her  brother's 
wayward  heart  had  been  for  her.  But  he  passed 
her  now  without  reply — nay,  more,  with  a  gesture 
in  which  was  so  much  of  anger  that  the  red 
blood  rose,  throbbing,  in  her  cheeks. 

"Where  is  Donna  Pancha?"  whispered  Gon- 
zales,  stooping  over  old  Rivas  where  the  latter 
sat  at  the  upper  end  of  the  large  apartment. 

"In  her  room  with  her  maidens.  She  will  be 
here  presently. " 

' t  But  cannot  I  speak  to  her  there  for  a  moment 
first?" 

'  *  Surely ;  you  know  the  house.  Rap  at  her  door 
and  one  of  the  girls  will  come.  Then  you  can 
send  her  word." 

Gonzales  hurried  off,  and  Rivas  gazed  after 
him  curiously.  But  the  old  ranchero  was  too 
easy-going,  and  also  entirely  too  completely  un 
der  the  dominion  of  his  elder  daughter,  to  worry 
his  indolent  brain  much  over  the  actions  of  those 
whom  that  daughter  chose  to  treat  as  close 
friends. 

"Perhaps  he  brings  a  message,"  thought  the 
old  man,  so  dismissed  the  subject. 

Meanwhile  Gonzales  hurried  on,  and  a  moment 
later  had  followed  the  advice  given  him,  and  sent 
in  a  message  to  the  young  mistress  of  the  casa. 
He  waited  not  long  for  an  answer,  for,  even  before 
he  had  expected  it,  a  hand  was  laid  upon  his  arm, 


76    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

a  pair  of  dark  eyes  were  gazing  into  his,  and  a 
vvoice,  musical,  if  a  little  high-pitched,  uttered  the 
single  word : 

"Well!" 

Pancha  Rivas  was  a  very  lovely  girl,  albeit 
there  was  a  flickering,  fickle  light  in  her  dark  eyes 
which,  to  one  who  looked  beneath  the  surface, 
might  have  somewhat  marred  the  perfection  of 
her  beauty. 

Gonzales'  own  eyes  lit  up  with  passionate  long 
ing  as  he  saw  again  the  fair  face  whose  influence 
upon  him,  alas !  had  thus  far  not  been  for  good, 
but  he  paused  not  to  gaze,  dear  to  his  soul  as 
was  the  sight  before  him. 

"He  is  coming,"  he  uttered  hoarsely. 

"Coming — Manuel?"  said  the  girl,  speaking  in 
a  half- whisper,  her  eyes  lighting  strangely. 

"Yes,  Manuel.  He  will  be  here  before  mid 
night." 

A  strange,  tremulous  ripple  of  laughter  escaped 
the  red  lips  of  the  girl,  though  it  seemed  that  she 
shuddered  in  her  merriment. 

"Before  midnight!"  she  echoed.  "Why,  then 
he  will  keep  the  tryst  I  made  for  him. ' ' 

"And  you?" 

"I,  Senor?  Why,  if  Manuel,  after  all,  is  true, 
you  would  not  have  me  faithless!" 

Again  she  laughed,  and  to  the  man  who  stood 
beside  her,  with  his  dark  face  drawn  and  rigid, 
her  mirth  was  maddening. 

"And  I — I  am  nothing,"  he  murmured,  half 
under  his  breath. 

Pancha  shrugged  her  shoulders. 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     77 

Suddenly  Gonzales  flung  himself  upon  his 
knees,  and  words,  tremulous  and  imploring, 
poured  from  his  lips.  There  was  no  hypocrisy  in 
either  speech  or  action.'  He  had  come  into  this 
girl's  presence  with  a  black  lie  already  framed 
to  tell  that  he  might  thereby  move  her  to  his  will. 
But  now  it  seemed  that  something — no  ordinary 
scruple — impelled  him  to  strive  to  triumph  with 
out  this  last  crowning  act  of  treachery. 

"Pancha,  Pancha!"  he  said  passionately.  "It 
is  all  true.  He  is  coming.  He  will  be  here.  But 
must  I  lose  all — I,  who  love  you  so  madly;  I, 
whom  you  have  taught  to  believe  you  preferred 
to  him  who  held  your  childish  promise!  Did  you 
not  tell  me  that  he  would  not  come!  Did  you 
not  tell  me  you  had  sent  your  message  late  that 
you  might  win  the  freedom  I  believed  you  wished 
only  that  you  might  give  yourself  to  me?  Oh, 
Pancha,  Pancha,  love  of  my  soul!  Are  you,  in 
deed,  as  fickle  as  the  wind?  In  days  past  men 
have  said  so,  Panchita,  and  I — I  have  forced 
them  to  retract  even  while  I  prayed  in  my  soul 
that  there  might  be  something  of  truth  in  their 
words— just  enough,  Pancha,  to  cause  you  to  turn, 
from  Manuel  to  me!  Oh,  mi  querida!  tell  me 
that  I  did  not  win  only  to  lose  again.  What  if  he 
comes,  indeed,  now  so  late!  Laggard  he  is  to 
claim  a  bride  at  the  eleventh  hour!  Is  not  your 
heart  mine,  Pancha?  Give  me  your  hand  then, 
while  there  is  time.  The  priest  is  here.  He  would 
do  the  bidding  of  your  father,  and  your  father 
lives  only  to  gratify  every  wish,  every  whim  of 
yours.  Pancha,  Panchita,  my  heart,  my  very  life. 


78      THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

is  in  your  hands !  If  you  have  no  thought  for 
yourself,  be  merciful  to  me ! ' ' 

The  words  came  forth  in  a  torrent,  pitiful,  im 
ploring,  but  the  very  spirit  of  perverseness  and 
coquetry  had  seemingly  entered  the  girl.  Surely 
she  could  not  otherwise  have  turned  from  the 
kneeling  pleader,  saying,  so  coldly : 

' '  I  think  you  have  had  your  chance,  Senor  Gon- 
zales.  I  am  sorry  for  you,  of  course,  but  I  can 
not  but  believe  that  were  I  a  man  and  in  your 
place  I  could  have  seen  to  it  that  my  rival  did  not 
keep  his  tryst. " 

' '  Dios ! ' '  exclaimed  Gonzales,  starting  to  his 
feet,  shocked  both  at  the  suggestion  itself,  as  com 
ing  from  her,  and  at  the  consciousness  of  the  vain 
treachery  with  which  he  had  anticipated  it. 
"You  do  not  mean  that  I  should  have — " 

"  I  do  not  mean  that  you  should  have  done  any 
thing,  "  she  said,  speaking  with  yet  greater  cold 
ness.  "But  I  think  that  I,  in  your  place,  might 
have  managed  to  detain  him,  and  that,  too,  with 
out  harm  to  either.  You,  Senor,  seem  to  have 
lacked  the  mind  to  plan  such  a  stratagem — or 
was  it  the  courage  to  carry  it  out  that  was  want 
ing?" 

Gonzales'  pale  cheeks  flushed  red  at  the  cruel 
words,  and  when  he  spoke  again  all  the  passion 
and  pleading  seemed  to  have  gone  out  of  his 
voice. 

"Spare  me  your  taunts,  Seiiorita,"  he  said 
coldly.  "I  would  have  spared  you — but  now  I 
have  that  to  say  which  it  will  not  please  you  to 
hear. ' ' 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     79 

She  turned  upon  him  with  swift  suspicion. 

" Speak!"  she  said  imperiously.  "What  is  it 
that  you  mean  ? ' ' 

"I  mean  that  Don  Manuel  de  Guerra  is  indeed 
on  his  way  hither,  and  he  will  be  here  before  mid 
night.  But — he  is  not  coming  alone. " 

"Who  is  with  him?" 

"The  brothers  Morales — " 

"The  Nine  Swords!"  exclaimed  Pancha,  smil 
ing  again.  "They  will  be  brave  guests  at  a  wed 
ding." 

"You  interrupted  me,"  said  Gonzales  hoarsely. 
* '  Some  one  else  accompanies  Sefior  de  Guerra  and 
his  friends.  Some  one  else — a  woman." 

"Ah!"  said  Pancha,  a  fiery  light  flashing  in 
her  eyes,  "Dolores  Morales!" 

"You  have  said  it,  Donna  Pancha,"  replied 
Gonzales.  "That  was  her  name — a  month,  ago." 

Pancha 's  cheeks  grew  livid. 

"Go  on,"  she  whispered. 

' i  Now  she  is  the  Seiiora  Manuel  de  Guerra. ' ' 

For  one  moment  Pancha  did  not  speak,  stand 
ing  pale  and  motionless,  with  dilated  eyes  fixed 
upon  Gonzales. 

"Married?"  she  murmured  at  last.  "The  sto 
ries  were  true,  then?  And  he  brings  her  here — 
here,  to  me!  It  is  thus  he  answers  my  summons. 
And  I,  I  am  to  be  shamed  before  my  people  and 
my  guests !  Oh,  how  has  he  dared  to  put  this  af 
front  upon  me?  I — poor,  feeble  wretch  that  I 
am! — I  am  but  a  woman,  only  a  woman!  Yet 
how  dared  he?  Does  he  dream  that  my  father 
and  my  kinsmen  will  pass  this  by?  Ah,  no,  no! 


80    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

He  cannot  think  it.  Good  cause,  indeed,  to  bring 
the  Nine  Swords!  But,  oh  Manuel,  Manuel,  who 
would  have  dreamed  that  you  could  do  this 
thing!" 

"Senoritat!"  said  Gonzales,  as  if  eager  to 
break  in  upon  her  passionate  speech,  "I  would 
have  spared  you  this  humiliation.  I  could  not 
bear  to  tell  you  what  I  knew,  but  I  would  have 
made  the  triumph  yours  and  the  mockery  and 
confusion  his.  But  you  would  not  listen." 

She  turned  to  him  swiftly  and  clasped  his  arm 
tightly  with  her  trembling  hands,  then  pushed 
him  fiercely  from  her. 

"Gk>!"  she  said.    " Bring  my  father  here." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

HOW  MANUEL  DE  GUEKKA  KEPT  HIS  TEYST,  WITH  THE 
AID  OF   THE   NINE  SWORDS 

THE  tapers  burned  before  the  improvised 
altar,  the  incense  from  the  swinging  censer 
perfumed  the  air.  Bride  and  bridegroom  knelt 
in  their  places,  she  with  face  pale  and  rigid,  he 
with  eyes  that  ever  sought  the  floor  and  with 
hands  which  trembled  with  every  breath  he  drew. 
There  were  looks  of  doubt  and  uneasiness,  too, 
upon  the  faces  of  the  guests,  for  this  seemed  a 
strange  and  to  many  an  ill-omened  wedding. 
There  had  been  no  explanation  of  Gonzales'  ap 
pearance  as  the  bridegroom — only  a  brief,  almost 
stern  statement  from  old  Don  Pedro  that  his 
guests  had  been  entirely  wrong  in  believing  that 
Manuel  de  Guerra  had  been  expected  as  anything 
but  a  guest.  But  there  was  a  dark  look  upon 
Rivas'  face  as  he  made  this  statement,  and  now 
as  he  witnessed  the  rites  that  were  making  his 
child  a  wife,  the  gloom  of  his  countenance  did  not 
lighten. 

It  was  over  at  last,  the  last  prayer  said,  the 
blessing  pronounced,  and  as  bride  and  groom  and 
the  kneeling  guests  arose  and  found  opportunity 
to  glance  about  them,  the  massive  clock  which  old 

81 


82    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

Don  Pedro  had  at  infinite  pains  and  excessive  ex 
pense  imported  from  Mexico  in  the  first  year  of 
his  settlement  in  California,  struck  the  last  hour 
of  the  night.  But  the  strokes  had  not  begun  when 
the  attention  of  all  was  attracted  simultaneously, 
as  it  seemed,  to  a  group  of  men  standing  just 
within  the  doorway,  through  which  they  had  en 
tered  silently  and  unnoticed  during  the  conclud 
ing  ceremonies.  . 

The  strangers  stood  somewhat  in  shadow,  and 
there  was  something  in  their  grim  silence  which 
irritated  Rivas  out  of  his  usual  habit  of  unques 
tioning  and  indiscriminate  hospitality.  It  was 
with  something  of  suspicion  that  he  spoke,  sud 
denly  and  sharply: 

"Who  are  you,  Seiiors,  and  what  do  you  wish 
of  me!" 

It  was  Carlos  Morales  who  stepped  forward 
and  made  answer. 

"We  wish  nothing  of  you,  Seiior,  well  or  ill. 
We  are  the  Morales,  and  we  were  not  bidden  to 
your  wedding  feast,  but  we  have  one  with  us  who 
was." 

Then  the  group  opened,  and  four  of  the  broth 
ers  came  forward  holding  the  corners  of  a  large 
serape  upon  which  lay  as  in  a  hammock  what 
seemed  the  body  of  a  dead  man.  Onward  they 
walked,  Carlos  leading  the  way,  and  the  startled 
guests  moving  backward  as  they  advanced  toward 
the  altar-place.  There,  at  the  feet  of  the  white- 
faced  bride  and  her  trembling  husband,  they  laid 
down  their  silent  burden. 

Francisco  Herrera,  who  walked  with  the  group, 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    83 

knelt  beside  the  motionless  form  of  his  friend,  the 
traces  of  tears  upon  his  cheeks,  but  the  Nine 
Swords  stood  about  them,  dry-eyed  and  stern, 
and  with  hands  that  seemed  prone  to  rest  upon 
the  hilts  of  the  weapons  that  they  would  not  will 
ingly  draw  in  the  presence  of  women  and  a  priest 
of  God.  To  Carlos  they  still  left  the  office  of 
spokesman. 

"I  would  grieve  to  frighten  so  new  a  bride, 
Senora,"  he  said,  fixing  his  eyes  pitilessly  upon 
the  white  face  before  him,  "so  I  hasten  to  tell 
you  that  I  believe  our  friend  here  is  not  dead.  If 
the  soul  has,  indeed,  left  his  body,  then,  Senora, 
you  have  the  comfort  of  knowing  that  your  will 
was  his  even  to  the  last,  for  he  died  as  a  true  man 
should,  striving  to  fulfill  the  behest  of  her  who 
held  his  pledge  of  faith.  He  did  fulfill  it,  lady, 
for  we,  his  friends,  can  vouch  that  he  was  here 
before  the  clock  struck  twelve.  Living  or  dead, 
then,  Senora,  Manuel  de  Guerra  kept  his  faith, 
and  if  others  have  chosen  to  make  that  faith  a 
folly,  why,  his  is  not  the  blame. " 

Pancha  struggled  with  herself  as  if  striving 
for  strength  to  speak.  Then  her  white  lips 
moved. 

"How  was  he  hurt?"  she  whispered. 

"Ask  that,  Senora,  of  him  who  stands  beside 
you.  Ask  of  him  whose  was  the  ambuscade, 
whose  the  treacherous  attempt  at  murder." 

"You — you!"  gasped  Pancha,  turning  with 
fierce  eyes  to  the  ghastly-faced  man  at  her  side. 

But  the  Nine  Swords  gave  no  heed  to  this,  nor 
did  Herrera.  Silently  the  bearers  lifted  their 


84    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

burden  again  and  moved  toward  the  door.  Then 
it  seemed  that  old  Rivas  awakened  as  from  a 
dream. 

"Leave  him  here,"  lie  said.  "He  is  my  foster 
son." 

"But  he  stays  not  beneath  the  same  roof  with 
that  dog,"  said  Carlos  sternly. 

Gonzales  started  forward  with  a  cry, 

"  'Dog!'  '  he  screamed.  "I  will  have  your  life 
for  that  word ! ' ' 

"Come  not  too  speedily  to  seek  it,  Senor,"  said 
Carlos.  "I  should  be  loth  to  make  so  fair  a  bride 
too  early  a  widow. ' ' 

And  the  scorn  in  his  eyes,  as  he  turned  them 
from  one  of  the  two  pale  faces  to  the  other,  seemed 
to  cut  like  a  scourge. 

Then  the  group  of  friends  moved  toward  the 
door,  but  as  they  went  a  slender,  white-clad  girl, 
beautiful  despite  her  pallor  and  the  dread  in  her 
dark  eyes,  started  forward  and  laid  her  hand  as 
with  a  sudden  impulse  on  Herrera's  arm.  In 
her  face  was  a  likeness,  distinct  but  strangely 
softened,  of  the  cold-eyed  bride  of  this  ill-omened 
wedding. 

"Francisco!"  whispered  the  girl,  so  low  that 
only  Herrera  heard. 

He  paused  for  an  instant,  and  his  sad  eyes  met 
her  own.  Then  once  more  they  turned  to  the  still 
form  being  borne  through  the  doorway. 

"Yda!"  he  murmured,  almost  below  his  breath 
—then  moved  away  with  hesitating  steps,  follow 
ing  the  others.  In  a  moment  the  darkness  had 
shut  them  in. 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     85 

Now  Panclia  turned  again  to  her  husband. 

1 '  Come  with  me, ' '  she  said. 

He  followed  her  to  the  room  where  he  had 
sought  her  earlier  in  the  night.  There  she 
stopped. 

"Then  it  was  all  a  lie?"  she  said. 

He  could  not  meet  her  eyes,  but  she  heard  him 
murmur  five  words  half  under  his  breath : 

"It  was  for  you,  Pancha." 

She  sprang  forward  and  struck  him  in  the  face 
with  all  her  strength,  and  he  staggered  back 
against  the  wall,  startled,  outraged,  and  wholly 
miserable. 

Then  this  strange  girl  laughed  with  a  quick 
catching  of  the  breath,  and  held  out  her  hand  to 
him — the  hand  that  had  struck  him. 

"If  I  had  had  my  dagger,"  she  said,  "I  know 
I  should  have  stabbed  you.  But  as  I  did  not,  and 
since  you  are  my  husband,  and  I  have  lost  forever 
the  one  true  man  in  all  the  world  for  you,  I  think 
I  will  forgive  you.  Now  let  us  go  back  and  cheer 
up  those  frightened  wedding-guests. ' ' 

Manuel  lay  that  night  under  the  hospitable  roof 
of  the  Carillos,  but  with  the  coming  of  the  next 
day  his  strength  had  so  far  returned  that  it  was 
deemed  safe  to  take  him  back  to  the  Casa  Morales. 
So,  borne  in  a  litter,  and  guarded  by  the  Nine 
Swords  and  his  recovered  friend  Herrera,  he 
made  the  journey,  moving  by  easy  stages  and 
with  many  rests.  It  was  evening  when  the  jour 
ney's  end  was  reached  and  Manuel  found  himself 
once  more  within  the  walls  where  he  had  but 
twenty-four  hours  before  vowed  to  sacrifice  his 


86    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

heart  to  honor  and  duty.  They  laid  him  upon  a 
couch  in  the  great  living-room,  and  then,  some 
how,  it  seemed  as  if  every  one  suddenly  fled  and 
left  him  to  himself. 

But  his  loneliness  was  only  for  a  moment,  for 
a  soft  footfall  sounded  in  the  room,  a  swift  step 
crossed  the  floor,  and  in  the  dusky  half-light  some 
one  knelt  beside  him — some  one  who  lifted  his 
weary  head  in  soft,  loving  arms  and  pressed  her 
warm  lips  to  his  cheek,  whispering  so  softly  and 
so  tenderly : 

"Manuel,  Manuel!  I  sent  you  away,  but  you 
have  come  back  to  me!  Oh,  Manuel!  I  am  so 
happy,  so  happy ! ' ' 

For  one  moment  Manuel  thought  that  death 
had  come,  and  with  it  Paradise.  And  then  he 
thought  no  more,  for  he  had  fainted. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

HOW    MANUEL  PASSED   THROUGH   THE  VALLEY  OF   THE 

SHADOW,   AND    THE   DEEDS    THAT    WERE   DONE 

BY  HIS  FRIEND,  HERRERA 

THE  spear  of  the  half-breed,  though  the  arm 
that  drove  it  was  already  stiffening  in 
death,  had  gone  deep  into  Manuel's  breast — so 
deep  that  it  ever  remained  a  mystery  and  a  mir 
acle  that  it  did  not  slay.  His  youth,  the  perfect 
health  and  vigor  of  his  frame,  above  all,  the  lov 
ing  care  of  his  gentlest  of  nurses,  the  thought 
that  now,  indeed,  he  could  not  die  with  the  prom 
ise  of  so  much  of  happiness  before  him — all 
these  combined  to  save  him.  But  he  lay  long  ill 
and  helpless — so  weak  that  even  had  Dolores  and 
her  brothers  been  willing  he  should  leave  them 
this  must  have  been  impossible.  Day  after  day 
so  slight  remained  his  hold  upon  life  that  it 
seemed  at  times  the  merest  chance  must  end  it. 
But  ever  at  his  side  was  one  who  lived  during 
that  time  of  dread  and  darkness  but  to  see  that  no 
such  chance  came  near. 

And  he  always  knew  her.  There  were  days 
following  the  first  fever  of  his  wound  when  Man 
uel  realized  nothing  of  his  surroundings — noth 
ing  but  the  fact  of  her  presence.  Even  in  the 

87 


88    THE  NINE  SWOEDS  OF  MORALES 

worst  of  his  delirium  his  gaze  would  follow  her 
from  side  to  side  of  the  room,  ever  meeting  her 
own  with  such  a  look  of  love  and  longing  that 
again  and  again  Dolores  turned  her  face  away  to 
hide  her  tears.  Did  she  leave  the  chamber  while 
he  was  awake,  his  dark  eyes,  doubly  black  and 
seeming  almost  unnaturally  large  in  his  wan  face, 
remained  fixed  upon  the  doorway,  and  their 
yearning  gaze  met  her  instantly  on  her  return. 
Though  in  his  seasons  of  mental  wandering  he 
had  no  understanding  for  her  words  more  than 
for  others,  yet  the  sound  of  her  voice  ever  seemed 
to  soothe  him,  as  the  touch  of  her  soft  hand  upon 
his  forehead  ever  brought  him  peace. 

But  it  was  not  often,  even  in  the  worst  of  his 
illness,  that  he  was  beyond  grasping  something 
at  least  of  what  was  going  on  about  him.  And 
certain  things  there  were  that  seemed  to  force 
themselves  upon  him  as  o'her  than  they  should  be. 

Thus  he  found  himself  at  times  wondering  in 
a  dazed  way  why  it  was  that,  after  the  first  few 
days  of  his  invalidism,  he  saw  so  little  of  'his 
hosts.  Even  in  his  mental  weakness  he  seemed 
to  realize  that  there  was  nothing  of  unkindness  in 
the  circumstance — was  not  Dolores  ever  there, 
sweetest  of  proxies! — and  yet  he  wondered.  And 
then  would  follow  the  thought  that  Francisco, 
too-,  was  absent — Francisco,  his  recovered  friend, 
who  had  forgiven  him  so  much;  who  had  fought 
for  him  so  loyally  at  the  ford;  whose  eyes  had 
scarcely  left  his  face  during  that  long  and  weary 
ride  that  followed  the  keeping  of  his  vain  tryst- 
he,  too,  was  absent — and  again  the  sick  man 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    89 

mentally  questioned,  feebly  and  at  intervals,  why 
it  should  be  so. 

Once,  indeed — this,  unhappily,  at  a  time  when 
his  mind  served  him  so  ill  that  he  retained  in  after 
days  but  the  faintest  remembrance  of  the  inci 
dent — he  had  what  seemed  a  dim  vision  of  all 
those  splendid  brothers,  and  with  them  Francisco, 
coming  softly  into  his  room,  booted  and  spurred 
and  armed  as  if  for  battle,  but  moving  with  a 
gentleness  which  in  men  so  massive  in  frame  and 
limb,  had  he  had  mind  to  note  it  then,  must  have 
seemed  almost  incongruous.  One  by  one  they  had 
paused  to  bend  for  a  moment  above  his  couch, 
some  of  them  touching  his  hand  with  such  gentle 
ness  as  seemed  to  suggest  the  fear  of  waking  a 
sleeping  child,  others  hesitating  even  at  this,  but 
all  looking  upon  him  with  eyes  of  loving  brother 
hood.  Only  for  a  moment  did  it  seem  they  were 
with  him.  Then  once  more  the  room  was  va 
cant — except  that  Dolores  was  kneeling  beside 
his  couch  and  hiding  her  eyes  against  his  hand. 

Once,  in  the  midst  of  the  night,  something  had 
awakened  him  with  faculties  strangely  alert  to  a 
knowledge  of  distant  shouts  and  other  sounds 
and  signs  of  confusion  somewhere  without,  amid 
it  all  a  sudden  sharp  fusil ade  of  shots.  At  this  he 
had  suddenly  half  risen  from  his  couch,  glancing 
wildly  about  him — and  then  the  door  had  softly 
but  noiselessly  opened,  and  Dolores  came  quickly 
to  his  side  with  a  word  of  loving  chiding  and 
hands  of  gentle  insistence  that  pressed  him  back 
upon  his  pillow.  Then  he  felt  her  cool  touch 
upon  his  forehead — and  when  next  his  eyes 


<JO     THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

opened  the  night  had  passed,  the  winter  sunlight 
was  glancing  in  through  the  lattices,  and  without 
was  no  sound  more  warlike  than  the  chirping  of 
the  blackbirds. 

From  that  morning  it  was  that  he  began  finally 
to  mend — and  now,  indeed,  was  life  a  joy,  weak 
and  wasted  as  was  his  once  athletic  frame,  white 
and  feeble  the  hands  of  old  so  brown  and  power 
ful.  Still  were  his  hosts  absent,  or  with  him  but 
at  infrequent  intervals  and  then  for  visits  mea 
sured  by  moments  only.  But  now,  as  ever,  Do 
lores  was  his  constant  attendant,  her  lovely  cheek 
paler  than  he  remembered  it  before  his  illness, 
her  eyes  graver  but,  if  that  were  possible,  softer, 
gentler  than  of  old,  and  immeasurably  sweet.  But 
just  passing  as  he  was  from  beneath  the  grim 
Shadow,  it  seemed  to  Manuel  that  only  now  had 
he  begun  to  live. 

As  time  went  by  and  he  grew  steadily  stronger, 
bewilderingly  happy  as  he  was  in  the  sweet  com 
panionship  ever  his  own,  it  was  but  natural  that 
his  re-awakening  mind  should  dwell  more  and 
more  upon  the  almost  continuous  absence  of  his 
hosts  and  Francisco.  No  suggestion  of  pique  or 
jealousy  disturbed  him,  and  it  was  only  a  steadily 
growing  curiosity  which  could  finally  no  longer 
be  restrained  that  led  him  at  length  to  put  his 
thoughts  into  words.  Even  then,  still  averse  to 
questioning  ever  so  slightly  the  actions  of  his 
hosts,  it  was  rather  accident  than  design  that 
moved  him  to  speak. 

"  Dolores, "  he  said  suddenly,  smiling  into  the 


THE  NINE  SWOKDS  OF  MOliALES     91 

dark  eyes  so  near  his  own,  "how  long  am  I  to  lie 
here,  a  useless  log,  shut  off  from  the  world?" 

Dolores '  smile  answered  his  own,  and  her  hand 
rested  for  a  moment  lightly,  caressingly,  upon  his 
dark  hair. 

"Is  it  so  lonely,  Manuel?"  she  asked  softly. 

"Oh,  so  lonely!"  he  echoed  sorrowfully. 
"Never  any  one  here  but  my  doctor — Doctor  Do 
lores!  Even  her  own  brothers  barred  from  me, 
tyrant  that  she  is ! — and  my  friend,  Francisco — 
him  she  has  driven  away  altogether." 

Dolores  smiled  still,  but  seemed  at  once  to  real 
ize  the  seriousness  underlying  the  jest  in  his 
words.  She  answered  gravely: 

"There  has  been  much  for  my  brothers  to  do, 
Manuel,  yet  they  have  ever  been  within  your  call. 
And  as  for  the  Senor  Herrera — "  and  now  all 
trace  of  lightness  left  her  voice — "never,  Manuel, 
had  you  friend  like  him. ' ' 

"And  your  brothers — and  yourself,"  mur 
mured  Manuel,  but  added  gratefully:  "Brave 
Francisco!  I  well  believe  he  would  give  his  life 
for  me." 

Quick  tears  sprang  into  Dolores '  eyes. 

"Yes,  he  would  do  that,"  she  whispered,  seem 
ingly  more  to  herself  than  to  him;  "he  would  do 
that — and  more ! ' ' 

Now  Manuel  sat  suddenly  upright  on  his  couch. 

"Dolores,  Dolores!"  he  gasped,  in  startled  hor 
ror,  "you  do  not  tell  me  he  is  dead!" 

"Ah,  no,  no!  Heaven  forbid!"  answered  Do 
lores  quickly.  ' '  But,  oh,  Manuel !  you  may  never 
know  all  he  has  sacrificed  for  you — for  us.  But 


92    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

something  I  may  tell  you — though,  indeed,  I  fear 
your  Doctor  Dolores  is  a  poor  physician  to  burden 
one  so  weak  and  ill  with  what  might  well  have 
waited. " 

But  Manuel,  whose  cheek  was  already  flushing 
with  at  least  the  dawning  of  returning  vigor,  per 
sisted. 

"No,  tell  me  all,  Dolores — and  tell  me  now.  I 
have  felt  there  was  something  I  should  know." 

And  then  Dolores,  calmly,  quietly,  in  a  voice 
the  very  sound  of  which  was  soothing  despite  the 
character  of  her  story,  told .  him  of  what  had 
chanced  while  he  lay  so  helpless  and  near  to  death. 

Told  him  how,  following  the  ill-omened  Rivas 
wedding,  half  the  length  and  breadth  of  Sonoma 
had  seemed  to  burst  into  flame ;  how  Ramon  Gon- 
zales,  smarting  at  the  public  insult  Carlos  had 
put  upon  him,  ordered  forth  the  wildest  of  his 
followers  to  raid  the  Morales'  lands  and  to  scat 
ter  their  herds  and  herdsmen;  how  he  had  fol 
lowed  this  up  by  a  desperate  though  foiled  at 
tempt,  led  by  himself  in  person,  to  burn  the  ranch o 
buildings — outrages  which  Dolores  did  not  con 
ceal  had  been  repaid  by  her  brothers  and  their 
people  with  raids  almost  if  not  quite  as  fierce  in 
design  and  fully  as  effective  in  execution.  The 
result  had  been  that  now  for  many  weeks  the  en 
tire  stretch  of  the  broad  Santa  Rosa  Plains,  with 
the  hills  and  valleys  adjoining,  had  rung  with 
warfare,  since  almost  every  ranchero  had  taken 
sides  and  ranged  himself  either  with  Gonzales 
and  old  Don  Pedro  Rivas  on  the  one  hand  or  with 
her  brothers  on  the  other. 


THE  NINE  SWOKDS  OF  MORALES     93 

x 

"The  Carillos,"  concluded  Dolores,  ending  her 
story,  "almost  alone  keep  the  peace.  Near  kins 
men  of  Vallejo,  the  Commandant,  he  will  not  al 
low  them  to  champion  either  side.  But  only  with 
those  of  his  own  house  has  his  word  held  good, 
for  almost  all  beside  are  fighting  for  us  or  against 
us." 

"And  I  have  been  lying  here — helpless,  use 
less  ! ' '  said  Manuel,  moved  for  an  instant  to  bit 
terness.  "Doubtless,  too,"  he  added,  "my  lands 
have  been  raided,  my  buildings  burned?" 

"It  might  well  have  been  so — that  it  was  not, 
your  thanks  are  due  to  your  friend,  Herrera,"  said 
Dolores.  "Oh,  Manuel,  think  of  it! — his  own 
house  was  given  to  the  flames  while  he  defended 
yours !  His  own  herds  were  scattered  while  he 
drove  the  Gonzales  from  your  ranges !  All  this 
he  has  done  for  you,  Manuel,  and  this — "  again 
the  swift  glimmer  of  tears  dimmed  the  lovely 
eyes — "this  is  but  the  least," 

Manuel's  thin  cheek  flushed  and  paled  alter 
nately  with  mingled  emotions  of  pride  and  anger 
as  he  heard  of  Francisco's  devotion,  and  what  it 
had  cost.  He  did  not  speak  at  once,  for  Dolores' 
last  words  suggested  that  there  was  still  some 
thing  to  be  told,  but  she  seemed  strangely  loth  to 
continue. 

"Do  not  grieve,  Dolores,"  he  said  at  last.  "I 
can  never  repay  Francisco,  no  more  than  I  may 
yourself,  mi  querida,  and  your  brave  brothers. 
But  what  he  has  lost  for  me,  that  at  least  he 
must  let  me  make  up  to  him." 

And  then  Dolores  clasped  his  thin,  worn  face 


1)4    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

for  a  moment  between  her  soft  hands  and  shook 
it  gently.  "Manuel,"  she  said,  smiling  through 
the  tears  that  still  dimmed  her  eyes,  "you  are 
rich — yes,  rich  and  brave;" — now  her  voice  fell 
so  low  he  could  scarcely  hear — "and — and  I  love 
you ! — but  you  are  a  goose,  Manuel !  Not  all  your 
riches  or  your  bravery  will  make  up  to  Francisco 
what  he  has  lost  for  you ! ' 9 

And  even  while  poor,  puzzled  Manuel  opened 
his  lips  to  plead  for  an  explanation,  once  more 
the  soft  hands  gave  him  that  quaint  suggestion  of 
loving  reproof — and  the  next  instant  he  found 
himself  left  alone  with  his  conjectures. 


CHAPTER  XV 

WHICH    TELLS    OF    "HERRERA*S    RAID,"    AND    OF    THE 
WEDDING-GIFT    FRANCISCO    BROUGHT    TO    MANUEL 

IT  WAS  a  great  day  at  the  Casa  Morales  when 
Manuel  was  deemed  sufficiently  strong  to  be 
assisted  to  a  seat  out  of  doors,  though  still  within 
the  wide  porch  which  crossed  the  entire  front  of 
the  dwelling.  Spring  was  at  hand,  and  the  warm 
sunlight  had  so  tempered  the  air,  though  with 
out  impairing  its  freshness,  that  every  breath 
he  drew  seemed  to  thrill  through  the  invalid's 
being  like  draughts  of  his  own  mountain  wine. 
Every  one  about  the  hacienda  kept  holiday  in 
honor  of  his  recovery,  and  now  at  last  he  had 
no  longer  cause  to  note  the  absence  of  his  hosts. 
All  were  there — The  Nine — gigantic  in  frame, 
splendidly  handsome,  contrasting  magnificently 
in  their  dark  beauty  with  the  gentle  loveliness  of 
their  sister.  Only  Francisco,  of  those  for  whose 
presence  Manuel  most  longed,  was  still  absent. 

And  soon  Carlos  noted  the  invalid's  roving 
eye,  and  at  once  replied  to  the  unspoken  ques 
tion: 

"He  will  soon  be  here,  Manuel.  Already  his 
message  and  his  messenger  have  arrived.  In 
deed,  my  brother,  it  is  scarcely  more  to  celebrate 

95 


96    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

your  own  recovery  than  Francisco's  return  that 
we  all  are  gathered  here  to-day." 

Manuel  glanced  from  face  to  face  wonderingly. 

"His  return?"  he  said.  "He  has,  then,  been 
away?  And  you  say  there  is  a  message — for 
me?" 

"Why,  yes,  it  is  for  you,"  said  Carlos,  a  swift 
smile  crossing  his  dark  face,  "but  this  tyrant, 
Dolores — ah,  Manuel,  you  do  not  know  what  is 
before  you ! — has  thus  far  not  allowed  us  to  de 
liver  it. " 

As  Carlos  spoke  "a  common  light  of  smiles" 
broke  over  the  faces  of  all  his  brothers,  and  Diego, 
youngest  of  The  Nine,  laughed  outright.  But 
Dolores,  though  she  blushed  divinely,  scorned  to 
be  driven  from  her  place  beside  Manuel's  chair. 

His  thin  hand  crept  gently  upward  to  her  own. 

"Shall  I  not  hear  it,  Doctor  Dolores!"  he  whis 
pered.  "I  think  suspense  must  be  very  bad  for 
a  feeble  patient." 

Smiles  and  blushes  blended  now  upon  her  lovely 
face. 

"Nay,  hear  it  then,"  she  said — "and  do  with 
out  your  doctor." 

Before  he  could  seek  to  detain  her  she  had 
vanished  within  doors,  leaving  him  staring 
blankly  at  the  smiling  brothers.  And  then  Car 
los  gave  him  Francisco's  message: 

"  'Tell  Manuel,'  he  said,  'that  I  will  be  there 
in  time  to  be  groomsman — and  that  I  am  bring 
ing  a  bridal-gift. ' 

"And  if  I  am  not  greatly  in  error,"  added 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES     97 

Carlos  calmly,  "he  is  here  now— bridal-gift  and 
all." 

Just  at  that  moment  there  came,  indeed,  from 
somewhere  down  the  riverside  a  great  braying  of 
horns,  with  a  wild  confusion  of  other  sounds, 
amid  which  it  seemed  possible  to  distinguish  the 
lowing  of  numberless  cattle  mingling  with  the 
shouts  of  their  vaquero  drivers.  Obeying  the  un 
spoken  wish  at  once  visible  in  Manuel's  eyes, 
Carlos  and  Diego  quietly  grasped  his  chair,  one 
on  either  side,  lifted  him  with  no  more  apparent 
effort  than  would  have  been  needed  had  he  been 
a  child,  and  so  carried  him  out  from  the  porch 
and  to  a  point  a  few  yards  distant,  whence,  thanks 
to  the  elevation  upon  which  the  house  stood,  it 
was  possible  to  see  a  long  way  in  almost  every 
direction.  To  the  westward,  indeed,  the  wooded 
ridge  served  as  a  barrier,  but  this  mattered  little 
at  that  moment,  since  all  turned  their  eyes  at  once 
to  the  south,  whence  came  the  sounds  that  had 
summoned  them  forth,  and  where  was  already 
visible  a  great  mass  of  moving  animals,  so  dense 
and  confused  that  it  needed  more  than  an  ordi 
nary  effort  to  grasp  the  meaning  of  the  wild 
array. 

Well  to  the  front,  as  if  leading  the  way,  rode  a 
little  group  of  horsemen  clad  in  gayer  costume 
than  most  of  their  companions — and  this  Man 
uel  had  but  just  had  time  to  observe  when  one  of 
these  riders  shot  suddenly  forward  and  came 
dashing  on  at  a  speed  which  in  a  moment  brought 
him  to  the  group  before  the  porch.  There  a  turn 
of  the  wrist  checked  the  horse  to  an  instant 


98    THE  NINE  SWOBDS  OF  MORALES 

stand — and  in  another  second  the  mud-spattered 
caballero  had  leaped  from  his  saddle  and  grasped 
both  of  Manuel's  hands. 

"Manuel,  oh,  Manuel !"  was  all  he  could  say, 
and  into  his  glowing  eyes  came  at  once  a  dimness 
that  he  could  not  for  a  moment  blink  away. 

Manuel  could  only  press  his  hands,  with  no 
spoken  word  of  welcome  or  reply,  but  Francisco 
seemed  content. 

In  a  moment,  the  newcomer  had  commanded 
himself  sufficiently  to  give  gay  greeting  to  The 
Nine,  and  to  bow  low  in  chivalrous  homage  to  Do 
lores,  who  had  once  more  resumed  her  place  by 
the  side  of  Manuel's  chair.  Then  he,  too,  became 
for  the  moment  a  spectator  of  the  great  mass  of 
men  and  cattle,  which  still  came  struggling  and 
plunging  onward.  He  waved  his  hand  toward  it 
with  a  laugh  of  gay  triumph. 

' '  Behold,  Manuel !  I  am  come  to  the  wed 
ding — and  for  a  bridal-gift  I  bring  you  back  your 
own!" 

Manuel's  eyes  opened  wide  in  wonder. 

"My  own,  Francisco?"  he  said.  "I  do  not  un 
derstand." 

"He  means,"  said  Diego  Morales,  gaily  eager 
to  have  something  to  do  with  the  giving  of  the 
news,  "that  these  are  the  cattle  from  your  Ar 
royo  Rancho.  While  he  guarded  your  northern 
range  the  Gonzales  raiders  looted  the  southern 
of  every  hoof  and  horn.  They  did  not  seek  to 
keep  what  they  stole — they  are  not  yet  thieves  for 
profit,  though  their  education  is  progressing — 
but  thev  drove  them  to  the  southward  till  the 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    99 

Bay  barred  the  path.  It  was  then  that  Hen-era 
mustered  his  men,  coaxed  some  of  Sonoma 's  to 
join  him — I  dare  swear  they  were  less  wild  than 
Francisco's  own! — bade  my  brothers  and  myself 
look  after  you,  and  rode  away  to  the  south.  It 
would  seem  that  his  quest  has  not  been  in  vain." 

"No,"  added  Francisco  modestly.  "I  think  I 
have  brought  back  all." 

But  Manuel  had  raised  himself  upright  and  was 
staring  at  the  great  throng  of  lowing  cattle  with 
eyes  of  wild  amazement. 

"All?"  he  muttered  at  last.  "Francisco,  what 
have  you  done?  There  were  not  half  these  cattle 
on  my  Arroyo  Range." 

The  look  of  innocent  surprise  which  came  upon 
Francisco's  face  was  perfect — so  perfect  that 
Diego  was  seized  with  a  sudden  fit  of  strangling 
laughter,  in  which  his  older  and  graver  brothers 
had  much  ado  not  to  join.  Dolores  glanced  ques- 
tioningly  from  one  to  another,  but  Francisco  re 
mained  calm  and  pleasantly  smiling,  though  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders  deprecatingly  as  he  an 
swered  : 

"Oh,  as  to  that,  it  is  of  course  possible  that  a 
stray  Gonzales  steer  or  two  may  have  gotten  into 
the  herd.  Driving  up  the  valley  last  night  in  the 
dark,  that  could  scarcely  be  avoided.  But  I  left 
word  that  if  the  Senor  Ramon  or  his  black-faced 
brother  would  come  and  aid  us  to  sort  them  out 
we  would  be  happy  to  correct  all  errors." 

Again  Diego  was  seized  with  his  fit  of  strang 
ling  laughter,  and  Manuel  himself  could  not  but 
join  in  the  milder  mirth  of  the  others,  though  he 


loo    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

shook  his  head  reproachfully  as  he  gazed  at  the 
bronzed  face  and  mud-spattered  frame  of  the 
reckless  young  raider  so  cheerfully  smiling  before 
him. 

"Ah,  Francisco,  Francisco!"  he  murmured, 
"when  we  were  lads  together  they  always  said 
you  were  meant  for  a  robber!" 

Had  Manuel  known  all  at  that  moment  there 
might  have  been  more  of  earnestness  than  jest  in 
his  words.  As  it  was,  his  eyes  opened  yet  more 
and  more  widely  as  the  great  herd  of  cattle,  low 
ing  and  struggling,  came  abreast  of  the  casa  and 
began  to  go  by,  passing  on  up  the  valley  to  the 
northernmost  of  the  two  great  ranges  of  which 
Manuel  was  the  owner.  At  the  head  rode  half 
a  score  of  horn-blowing  vaqueros,  side  by  side, 
and  on  either  flank,  as  well  as  in  the  rear,  a  throng 
of  their  comrades  kept  the  restless  mass  of  cattle 
closely  together.  Every  man  of  them  fairly 
bristled  with  arms,  and  the  general  wildness  of 
their  appearance  was  not  lessened  by  the  fact 
that  here  and  there  was  to  be  seen  a  man  who 
rode  half  naked,  with  long  black  hair  streaming 
from  an  uncovered  head,  with  bow  and  quiver  at 
his  back,  and  all  such  other  peculiarities  of  dress 
and  equipment  as  went  to  prove  him  one  of  those 
who  ordinarily  followed  no  leader  but  Sonoma. 
To  do  that  Chief  justice,  moved  alike  by  the  urg- 
ings  of  Vallejo  and  his  own  sense  of  what  was 
best  for  his  people,  he  had  striven  to  keep  his 
followers  from  siding  with  either  faction  in  the 
strife  which  had  so  suddenly  broken  out  in  the 
valley.  But  Francisco  was  his  "blood-brother" 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    101 

—a  term  that  meant  much  in  the  old  days — had 
grown  up  with  his  own  younger  followers,  and 
when  some  of  these  sought  to  steal  away  upon  an 
expedition  which  promised  the  excitement  that 
they  loved,  it  had  not  been  difficult  for  the  grim 
Chief  to  close  his  eyes. 

Again  Manuel  gazed  in  amazement  upon  his 
friend,  but  the  unabashed  raider  only  smiled  back 
at.  him  with  eyes  of  open-souled  innocence — and 
it  was  not  for  weeks  afterward  that  Manuel 
learned  all  that  could  be  told  of  that  reckless  ex 
pedition  which  was  to  linger  for  generation  after 
generation  in  the  memories  of  the  dwellers  in  the 
fertile  Sonoma  valleys  as  "Herrera's  Raid." 

But  Francisco  grew  suddenly  grave,  and  bent 
lower  over  his  friend's  chair. 

"Do  not  fret,  Manuel,"  he  said.  "All  will  be 
righted  in  the  end — and  this'  tro^fele  4s  of  ilrcir 
making.  I  needed  surety,  yoVkilbw/  for  the  re 
turn  of  my  own  scattered  herds.;  AlUl  'surety;  ^ 
owe  no  kindness  to  Gonzales'." 

Manuel  pressed  his  hand. 

"I  know  what  you  have  suffered  in  my  cause, 
Francisco,"  he  said  gratefully,  "and  I  would  not 
care  for  Gonzales.  But  Rivas — Rivas  was  my 
foster  father." 

Herrera  drew  himself  suddenly  erect,  and  his 
friend  noted  that  his  face  grew  pale. 

"And  he  was  my  friend,"  he  murmured,  so  low 
that  but  the  one  listener  heard.  "Fear  not  for 
that,  Manuel.  His  men  rode  with  the  Gonzales 
when  they  burned  my  house — but  there  is  not  a 


102    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

Rivas  hoof  in  all  that  herd.  He  and  his  are  ever 
safe  from  me." 

At  once,  and  with  no  warning,  sudden  light 
seemed  to  break  upon  Manuel's  mind.  Again  he 
pressed  Herrera's  hand. 

"Yda!"  he  whispered;  "Yda  Rivas!" 

Francisco  turned  away. 

"My  poor  Francisco!"  whispered  Manuel, 
wringing  his  comrade's  hand;  "to  think  that  I 
never  knew." 

Francisco  shrugged  his  shouldejs,  an  action  in 
which  there  was  more  than  a  little  ruefulness. 
Then  a  glimmer  of  mirthful  light  chased  the 
gloom  from  his  eyes. 

"Never  mind,  Manuelito,"  he  said,  smiling. 
"After  all,  it  will  be  something  to  dance  at  your 
wedding  if  I  may  not  at  my  own. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XVI 

OF    THE    UNEXPECTED    GUEST    WHOSE    NEWS    BID    FAIR 
TO   DISTURB  AND   DELAY   A   WEDDING 

THE  guests  began  to  gather  early  in  the  week 
of  the  wedding.  It  was  not  the  custom  in 
that  hospitable  time  for  an  invitation  to  any  fes 
tivity,  however  brief  the  actual  event  which  fur 
nished  the  occasion,  to  relate  to  a  single  day. 
With  guests 'to  come  from  any  distance  up  to  a 
hundred  miles  or  more,  and  the  exigencies  of 
horseback  travel  through  a  country  guiltless  of 
roads  to  be  taken  into  account,  it  was  a  matter  of 
necessity  as  well  as  of  courtesy  to  make  the  no 
tice  of  invitation  ample  and  the  offer  of  hospital 
ity  indeterminate  as  to  time.  Days  before  that 
which  was  to  see  Manuel  and  Dolores  made  one, 
therefore,  caballeros  grave  or  gay  began  arriving 
at  the  low-walled  but  wide-spreading  casa  on  the 
banks  of  the  Russian  River.  Some  rode  up  alone, 
some  came  in  friendly  couples  or  larger  groups ; 
some  with  and  some  without  attendants,  those 
so  accompanied  for  the  most  part  bringing  with 
them  the  ladies  of  their  families.  All — men, 
women,  and  children — came  on  horseback,  for  car 
riages  there  were  none  in  the  country,  and  to 
travel  afoot,  however  short  the  distance,  was  a 

103 


104    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

thing  unheard  of.  The  stables  and  stock-yards  of 
the  Morales  were  soon  as  populous  in  their  way 
as  was  the  house  itself,  but  in  neither  ease  did 
there  seem  to  be  any  limit  in  the  matter  of  capac 
ity.  Very  early,  indeed,  the  house  and  its  ap 
purtenances  became  crowded,  but  thereafter  the 
continuing  arrivals  appeared  to  -cause  no  addi 
tional  embarrassment.  With  every  one,  guests  as 
well  as  hosts,  was  the  utmost  good  nature,  with  a 
disposition  and  ability  to  make  the  circumstances 
of  the  case  meet  the  necessities.  And  the  results 
were  eminently  satisfying.  Of  inconvenience 
there  was  much;  of  actual  discomfort  nothing. 
Everywhere  was  joyous  good  nature,  everywhere 
that  charming  combination  of  hospitality  and  ap 
preciation  thereof  which  makes  guests  as  well  as 
hosts  entertainers  and  workers  for  the  common 
good. 

Of  the  many  arrivals,  those  who  lived  nearest, 
for  the  most  part,  came  latest,  and  it  was  upon 
the  last  day  preceding  that  fixed  for  the  wedding 
that  to  one  dark-skinned  but  handsome  caballero 
Carlos  extended  a  welcome  with  the  warmth  of 
which  something  of  surprise  seemed  to  mingle. 
And  the  guest  showed  his  white  teeth  in  a  smile 
of  gay  good  humor  as  he  answered  his  host's 
thoughts  rather  than  his  words : 

"Yes,  it  is  I,  Don  Carlos — Joaquin  Carillo,  and 
I  am  no  more  a  Morales  man  than  one  who  rides 
with  Gonzales.  But — '  and  here  he  laughed 
aloud — "my  wild  brother,  Ramon,  is  just  now 
feasting  with  your  foes,  so  it  was  fitting,  was  it 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    105 

not,  that  I  should  come  to  you?    What  else  can 
the  brothers-in-law  of  the  Commandant  do!" 

Carlos  smiled  as  he  answered  with  calm  cour 
tesy  : 

"Whatever  the  circumstances,  Seiior,  we  rejoice 
in  your  presence.  Your  brother's  absence  I  can 
only  regret.  But  you  did  not  speak  of  Don  Julio. 
May  I  hope  then  that  he  also  is  to  be  our  guest?" 

Carillo  laughed  again.  ' '  Poor  Julio ! "  he  said ; 
"you  must  pardon  him,  but  he  remains  at  home- 
cursing  over  the  good  cheer  he  misses.  We  really 
must  be  neutral,  you  know,  we  Carillos — so  it  was 
that  or  cut  poor  Julio  into  halves.  It  must  not 
go  abroad  that  the  Commandant's  kinsmen  are 
taking  sides." 

"There  is  merrymaking,  then,  at  the  Casa 
Rivas?"  said  a  voice  at  the  speaker's  elbow. 
Carillo  turned — and  again  his  dark  face  broad 
ened  and  his  white  teeth  shone. 

"Ay,  Senor  the  Raider,"  he  said;  "merrymak 
ing  and  feasting — there  was  a  fatted  calf  or  two 
that  you  did  not  chance  to  get. ' ' 

Herrera  shook  his  head  deprecatingly,  but 
smiled  as  he  questioned  further: 

"And  Gonzales  is  there,  of  course?" 

"Ay! — and  well  nigh  chief  of  the  feast — with 
his  black-faced  brother  to  back  him." 

"Sancho?" 

"Even  so.  And  if  Sancho  has  his  way,  his 
brother  will  not  be  the  only  one  of  the  wild  breed 
to  wed  a  Rivas.  Of  a  verity  old  Don  Pedro  has 
the  queerest  of  taste  in  sons-in-law. ' ' 

Had  Carillo  looked  closely  he  must  have  seen 


106    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

the  paleness  that  crept  up  beneath  the  tan  in 
Francisco's  face  at  his  careless  words.  But  al 
ready  he  was  glancing  elsewhere.  Herrera  bade 
the  laughing  caballero  an  adieu  to  all  appearance 
as  gay  as  his  own,  but  turned  his  face  away  as 
quickly  as  might  be  to  hide  the  trouble  that  he 
could  no  longer  keep  from  his  eyes.  And  then, 
still  with  a  merry  passing  word  here  and  there  to 
those  he  could  not  avoid  without  evident  inten 
tion,  he  strode  swiftly  through  the  laughing 
groups  until  he  had  left  all  and  found  himself 
alone  in  the  grove  of  willows  fringing  the  river. 
And  there,  flinging  himself  down  upon  the  earth, 
the  boy — he  was  little  more  in  years — wrestled 
long  with  the  yearning  of  his  passionate  heart- 
long  and  faithfully,  yet  did  not  conquer  at  the 
last. 

So  it  was  that  when  the  gay  party  had  gathered 
that  evening  about  the  long  table  in  the  great 
dining-room,  the  bright  presence  of  Francisco  the 
Raider  was  wanting.  Instead  was  only  the  brief 
note  which  a  servant  thrust  into  Manuel's  hand 
as  he  left  his  room  to  join  the  feasters : 

"Forgive  me,  Manuel,  and  ask  that  sweet  lady 
so  soon  to  be  yours  and  her  brave  brothers  also 
to  forgive  me.  I  would  be  but  a  death's-head  at 
the  feast.  I  beg  that  you  will  not  doubt  my 
speedy  and  safe  return — what  could  happen  to 
one  already  so  luckless  as  I? — and  that  you  unll 
not  delay  your  own  happiness  because  of  the 
vagaries  of  your  unfortunate  "FRANCISCO." 

Dolores  saw  the  note  as  Manuel  took  his  place 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    107 

beside  her,  also  the  trouble  in  his  eyes.     She  ex 
tended  an  open  hand  for  the  fragment  of  paper. 

' '  Give  it  to  me, ' '  she  said  with  sweet  imperious- 
ness. 

He  did  so,  silently,  and  at  once  the  worry  in  his 
face  was  reflected  in  her  own. 

'He  has  gone  to  the  Casa  Rivas,"  she  said 
aloud. 

The  exclamation  drew  many  eyes  at  once  to 
her  troubled  face. 

"What  is  wrong,  Dolores!"  said  Carlos  gently. 
"Who  has  gone?" 

And  Manuel  added: 

"We  are  all  Francisco's  friends.  Let  Carlos 
read  the  note  aloud." 

It  was  done,  and  for  a  moment  guests  and  hosts 
looked  at  one  another  questioningly.  Then  Car 
los  spoke,  gravely  enough  at  first,  but  with  a 
swift  change  to  mirth  which  did  much  to  lighten 
the  shadow  that  seemed  to  have  fallen  upon  all : 

"The  mad  lad!  Ah,  that  Casa  Rivas!  What 
trouble  it  makes  for  our  best  and  bravest!" 

Manuel's  thin  cheek  flushed,  though  he  smiled 
to  meet  the  gentle  raillery  in  Carlos 's  eyes.  And 
Dolores,  with  a  sudden  mutinous  look  at  her  dark- 
faced  brother,  for  one  instant  laid  her  slim  hand 
lightly  upon  Manuel's  shoulder  with  a  touch  of 
such  gentle  meaning  as  brought  just  the  sugges 
tion  of  a  smile  to  some  faces  and  a  look  that  was 
very  different  indeed  into  others'  eyes. 

Then  Joaquin  Carillo  suddenly  struck  his  hand 
heavily  upon  the  table.  "The  Casa  Rivas!"  he 
said.  "I  deserve  to  be  struck  dumb!" 


108    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

No  one  answered  in  words,  But  every  eye  was 
turned  upon  him  in  mute  question. 

"It  was  I  who  sent  him,"  he  said,  in  wrathful 
self-accusation.  "Why  must  I  prate  of  the 
merrymaking  there — of  black-faced  Sancho  Gon- 
zales  and  his  hopes!  Thank  the  saints,  my  mad 
brother  will  be  at  his  back — the  boy  will  not  lack 
for  one  stout  friend  even  in  the  very  nest  of  his 
foes." 

"No,  nor  for  others,  Senor,"  said  Carlos  calmly. 
"But  now,  my  guests,  be  not  sparing,  I  beg  of  you, 
of  our  good  cheer.  Be  assured  that  nothing  can 
destroy  our  pleasure  in  your  presence.  And  if 
my  brothers  and  I,  for  a  few  short  hours,  must 
leave  to  Donna  Dolores  and  Don  Manuel  the  priv 
ilege  of  entertaining  you,  I  do  not  doubt  that  you 
will  forgive  our  absence,  knowing  its  cause. ' ' 

' '  Nay,  but  I  ride  with  you ! ' '  exclaimed  Joaquin 
Carillo,  rising  in  his  place. 

1  '  And  I ! "  "  And  I ! "  echoed  round  the  board, 
as  man  after  man  sprang  to  his  feet,  the  candle 
light  finding  reflection  in  a  score  of  flashing  eyes. 

Carlos  waved  his  hand  in  courteous  but  posi 
tive  deprecation. 

"Let  me  beg  of  you — no!"  he  said.  "Bitter 
enough  is  the  quarrel  as  it  is.  Let  us  not  spread 
the  feud.  And  we  do  not  need  your  gallant  arms, 
Senors.  We  go  but  to  overtake  and  bring  back 
that  rash  boy.  Of  your  chivalry,  my  guests,  let 
me  ask  that  you  do  not  desert  my  sister  nor  this, 
my  brother,  that  we  leave  behind.  But  there  can 
be  no  wedding  beneath  this  roof  while  that  other 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    109 

friend,  to  whom  we  owe  so  much,  is  not  among 
us." 

Then  Carlos  lifted  a  goblet,  already  filled,  and 
motioned  his  guests  to  take  up  their  own. 

"While  we  stand,"  he  said,  "join  with  me,  all 
of  you,  in  one  draught,  my  friends,  to  the  ab 
sent — to  the  rash,  the  foolish,  if  you  will ;  but,  ah ! 
the  daring ! — Francisco  Herrera ! ' ' 

"Herrera  the  Raider!"  shouted  a  voice  that 
sounded  like  Carillo  's,  and  all  drank  the  red  wine 
at  a  gulp.  Then,  moved  by  a  common  impulse,  as 
it  seemed,  every  man  there  swung  his  hand  above 
his  head,  and  the  rafters  rang  with  the  cry — 
1 1  Herrera  the  Raider !  Viva !  Viva ! ' ' 


CHAPTER  XVII 

TELLING  HOW  FRANCISCO  HEBREBA  CAME,  AN 
UNBIDDEN  GUEST,  TO  THE  CAS  A  RIVAS 

TO  FRANCISCO  HERRERA,  watcher  in  the 
darkness,  with  the  gleaming  lattices  of  the 
Casa  Rivas  less  than  fifty  yards  away,  the  tink 
ling  melody  of  guitar  and  mandolin  came  continu 
ously  and  with  a  tantalizing  effect  which  it  seemed 
must  soon  become  maddening.  The  very  keen 
ness  of  his  eyes  added  to  his  discomfort,  So  near 
had  he  ridden  to  the  mansion  at  that  moment 
holding  so  many  of  his  foes  that  he  knew  or 
fancied  he  knew  every  swaying  figure  that  the 
movement  of  the  dance  caused  to  pass  across  the 
lighted  window-spaces.  One  by  one,  and  with 
steadily  growing  vexation,  he  recognized  them — 
caballeros  and  senoritas ;  youths  like  himself, 
with  whom  in  happier  times  he  had  known  many 
a  day  of  wild  frolic;  bright-faced  women  from 
whom  there  had  ever  been  a  welcome  for  Fran 
cisco  Herrera,  most  dashing  of  cavaliers,  gayest 
of  boyish  adorers.  It  was  all  changed  now — for 
him.  They  were  there  as  of  old,  his  one-time  com 
rades  ;  now  as  ever  welcome  guests  beneath  old 
Don  Pedro's  roof  and  at  his  laden  board;  free  to 
sue  for,  perhaps  to  win — he  ground  his  teeth  at 
no 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    111 

the  thought — the  smiles  that  it  seemed  were  nev 
ermore  for  him.  He  was  here,  maddening  in  the 
darkness ! 

Yet  he  gazed  on — searchingly,  yearningly ;  giv 
ing  little  heed  now,  despite  the  furious  jealousy 
of  a  moment,  to  the  male  figures  that  passed 
across  his  field  of  vision,  but  devouring  with  hun 
gry  eyes  the  more  graceful  forms  beside  them. 
For  a  sight .  less  keen  the  recognition  of  these 
could  scarcely  have  been  easy.  Viewed  from 
where  Francisco  sat  in  the  saddle  there  was  lit 
tle  whereby  to  distinguish  one  from  another 
among  the  many  wearers  of  floating  veils 
and  flower-decked  bodices  of  white.  Some,  in 
deed,  he  knew  at  once,  of  others  he  was  not  so 
certain — and  for  one  he  waited  still,  confident 
that  she  at  least  could  not  escape  his  eyes  so 
sharpened  by  love  and  longing. 

And  suddenly  he  straightened  in  his  saddle,  the 
warm  blood  throbbing  in  his  cheeks.  He  saw  the 
gleaming  red  roses  in  her  hair,  he  fancied  he 
could  even  at  that  distance  note  the  soft  luster  of 
her  great  dark  eyes — and  then  his  gaze  fell  upon 
the  man  beside  her. 

Francisco's  brows  drew  downward,  his  head 
sank  a  little  upon  his  breast,  and  deep  in  his  fierce 
young  heart  throbbed  something  which  it  was  just 
as  well  did  not  find  utterance  in  words. 

Upright  and  manly,  daring  and  generous,  quick 
to  anger  and  as  swift  to  forgive,  Francisco  was 
as  gentle  and  kindly  a  caballero  of  his  race  and 
time  as  one  could  wish  to  meet.  But  it  was  hard 
to  sit,  outcast  and  lonely  in  the  darkness,  and 


112    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

see  another — and  that  other! — free  to  worship 
unforbidden  at  the  shrine  he  had  once  so  fondly 
imagined  his  alone. 

But '  he  was  too  light-hearted,  too  bright-na- 
tured,  to  borrow  pain,  and  was  the  less  inclined 
thereto  that  he  knew  time  to  be  pressing,  and  that 
it  behooved  him  now,  having  dared  so  much,  to 
go  yet  further  forward  with  the  purpose  which 
had  brought  him — unless,  indeed,  he  wished  to 
own  it  hopeless.  That  would  mean  riding  away 
at  once  from  the  presence  of  profitless  peril,  for 
Francisco  knew  that  a  Herrera,  than  whom  the 
Morales  counted  no  stancher  ally  among  all  who 
supported  their  quarrel,  showed  little  judgment, 
not  to  mention  caution,  in  being  alone  and  at 
night,  as  he  was  now,  in  the  district  his  foes 
claimed  for  their  own.  But  the  lad  was  young, 
he  had  dared  such  chances  often,  and  fortune, 
with  his  own  quick  wits  and  active  arm,  had  ever 
kept  him  safe  from  ill. 

Francisco  did  not  dwell  for  an  instant  upon 
the  alternative  of  retreat  and  safety,  but  had  he 
hesitated  the  choice  must  soon  have  been  taken 
from  him.  For  while  he  yet  paused,  not  in  fear 
but  in  indecision,  as  to  how  best  to  go  forward 
in  his  venture,  some  one  came  slowly  walking  to 
ward  him  in  the  darkness.  He  knew,  outlined  as 
he  was  against  the  sky,  there  could  be  but  one 
chance  in  a  thousand  that  he  had  not  already  been 
seen.  So  he  rode  easily  forward  and  met  the 
stranger  a  few  yards  nearer  the  house. 

Francisco  had  formed  no  special  plan,  trusting, 
as  almost  ever,  to  the  chances  of  the  moment  and 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    113 

liis  own  quick  wits,  and  it  seemed  that  he  was 
not  to  do  so  vainly.  As  the  two  met,  the  man 
from  the  house  said  unconcernedly  and  in  the 
half-Indian,  half-Spanish  patois  of  the  aboriginal 
natives  of  the  province  : 

" Shall  I  take  the  horse,  Senor?" 

Francisco  instantly  realized,  of  course,  that  lie 
was  believed  to  be  merely  one  more  of  the  guests 
at  Rivas'  merrymaking,  legitimately  present  if 
somewhat  late-arrived.  For  the  moment  at  least 
there  was  no  danger  of  disclosure  that  he  did  not 
himself  invite.  But  there  was  a  familiar  tone 
in  the  voice  that  had  addressed  him,  a  familiar 
air,  too,  in  the  careless  pose  of  the  stocky  figure 
standing  at  his  horse's  shoulder,  which  caused  him 
to  lean  suddenly  forward  and  peer  intently  into 
the  man's  face. 

"Why,  it  is  Pepe!"  he  said,  half  laughing  in 
his  light-hearted  way  over  a  meeting  which  some 
how  seemed  an  earnest  of  yet  other  good  luck  to 
follow. 

Pepe,  though  an  Indian  born  and  bred,  for  years 
had  been  a  sort  of  semi-retainer  of  the  Rivas 
household,  coming  and  going  much  as  he  listed, 
but  always  considering  the  rancho  his  home.  He 
had  all  the  stolidity  of  his  race,  its  incapacity  for 
betraying  emotion,  but  for  just  one  instant  he 
seemed  startled.  Then  he  shook  his  head  slowly, 
muttering : 

' '  Senor  Francisco !     That  is  bad — very  bad ! ' ' 

But  Francisco  only  laughed  again,  and  swung 
himself  easily  down  from  the  saddle.  He  had 
known  Pepe  well  in  the  time  before  the  breaking 


114    THE  NINE  SWOKDS  OF  MORALES 

out  of  the  feud,  lie  knew,  too,  of  the  good  service 
done  in  other  days  for  his  friend  and  comrade, 
Manuel  de  Guerra,  by  the  sluggish  but  loyal  In 
dian.  He  would  not  see,  therefore,  in  the  present 
meeting  anything  but  good,  and  it  was  Pepe's 
first  remark,  rather  than  the  second,  that  he  chose 
to  reply  to.  This  he  did  in  his  own  whimsical 
way. 

"Yes,  you  will  take  the  horse,  Pepe.  I  can't 
lead  him  into  the  dance,  now  can  If" 

But  if  Pepe  saw  the  point  of  Francisco's  mild 
joke  he  declined  to  show  it.  Instead  he  chose  to 
take  the  remark  seriously,  if  not  literally. 

' '  You  will  not  go  there,  Sefior  ? "  he  said  gravely. 

"And  why  not,  Pepe!"  asked  Francisco,  lightly- 
still.  t  i  Am  I  not  a  guest — and  Don  Pedro  is  there, 
is  he  not,  and  the  Donna  Yda  ? ' ' 

"And  the  Gonzales — and  others,"  said  the  In 
dian  stolidly. 

Francisco  frowned,  but  his  only  answer  was  to 
move  forward,  saying : 

"Take  care  of  the  horse,  Pepe.  I  may  need 
him,  you  know." 

Pepe  laid  his  hand  on  his  sleeve,  detaining  him, 
and  spoke  again,  this  time  with  a  note  in  his  gut 
tural  voice  which  seemed  almost  imploring: 

' l  Senor,  if  you  go  there,  you  may  not  need  him 
again. ' ' 

"Then  I  give  him  to  you,  Pepe — but  ride  him 
away  before  some  of  those  brave  Gonzales  cabal- 
leros  steal  him,"  answered  Francisco,  again 
laughing  softly,  as  he  strolled  on  toward  the 
house. 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    115 

Pepe  looked  after  him  for  a  moment,  then 
moved  as  if  about  to  take  the  horse  to  the  stables. 
But  with  his  first  step  he  paused,  glanced  thought 
fully  about  him,  and  then  led  the  animal  a  few 
paces  to  one  side,  where  the  drooping  branches 
of  an  oak  hung  so  low  that  he  easily  reached  one 
of  them.  To  this,  with  a  knot  at  once  secure  and 
readily  to  be  unfastened,  he  hitched  the  halter, 
then  quietly  sat  himself  down  in  the  dark  shadow 
at  the  foot  of  the  great  tree-trunk.  Here  he  be 
came  at  once  invisible,  but  his  eyes  could  rest  both 
upon  the  horse  and  the  lighted  windows  of  the 
house  beyond. 

The  old-time  Mexican  plan  of  house-building — 
the  solid,  fortress-like  square  surrounding  an  in 
ner  court — never  obtained  much  of  a  foothold  in 
Northern  California.  The  comparatively  peace 
ful  character  of  the  Indians,  also,  in  all  probabil 
ity,  the  question  of  cost,  tended  to  bring  a  much 
simpler  and  less  warlike  style  of  architecture  into 
favor,  though  there  were  isolated  instances  to  the 
contrary.  The  home  of  Don  Pedro  Rivas  was  of 
the  simpler  fashion — a  large  oblong,  thickly 
walled  with  adobe,  and  along  one  entire  side  of 
which,  really  the  front  of  the  house,  ran  a  deep 
porch,  pillared  with  hewn  columns  of  wood,  about 
which,  as  well  as  over  the  overhanging  eaves 
above,  grew  climbing  rose-bushes  and  honey 
suckles  in  luxuriant  profusion.  Against  the  inner 
wall  of  the  porch,  rooted  in  large,  rudely-made 
receptacles  for  earth,  were  other  vines  and  bushes, 
partially  screening  the  lattice-work  of  the  win 
dows.  Two  of  the  latter,  one  on  either  side  of  the 


116    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

wide  doorway,  opened  into  the  great  living-room 
of  the  casa — an  apartment  which,  with  its  antler 
and  weapon  decked  walls,  might  not  improperly, 
but  for  the  lack  of  stateliness  to  be  attributed  to 
the  low  ceiling,  have  been  likened  to  the  baronial 
hall  of  an  Old-world  feudal  castle. 

Plainly  built  as  it  was,  and  despite  the  low-hung 
and  roughly-hewn  beams  above,  the  apartment 
was  still  picturesque  in  the  highest  degree,  thanks 
to  the  wealth  of  woodland  and  warlike  decoration 
which  covered  the  walls ;  the  brightly-barred  Mex 
ican  blankets  serving  at  once  to  soften  and  beau 
tify  the  couches ;  the  great  rugs  of  fur,  to  furnish 
each  of  which  some  monarch  of  forest  or  mountain 
had  yielded  up  his  life — above  all,  at  this  moment, 
to  the  gay  throng  of  revelers,  gorgeous,  as  to  the 
men,  in  gold-braided  velvet,  or  beautiful,  as  for 
old  Don  Pedro's  gentler  guests,  in  snowy  white, 
relieved  only  by  wreaths  and  clusters  of  flowers 
and  their  own  glowing  cheeks  and  eyes. 

Shielded  against  observation  from  the  open 
doorway,  had  any  one  chanced  to  look  out,  by  a 
mass  of  wall  foliage,  Francisco  Herrera  stood  for 
a  moment  before  one  of  the  latticed  windows  aijd 
gazed  upon  the  scene  within. 

Yes,  Pepe  was  right — and  even  while  he  vowed 
in  his  fiery  soul  that  no  man  should  bar  him  where 
he  willed  to  go,  Francisco  could  not  but  own  that 
within  that  room  was  no  place  for  him  or  for  any 
who  rode  with  the  Morales — unless,  indeed,  he 
might  come  with  those  nine  great  sons  of  Anak  at 
his  back.  Before  his  eyes  as  he  gazed,  lolling  on 
the  settees  about  the  large  room,  chatting  in 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    117 

groups  or  moving  in  haughty  grace  in  the  stately 
dance  at  that  moment  going  on,  were  they  all — 
leaders  and  satellites  together — the  chief  foes  of 
his  own  and  his  comrades'  people.  Gonzales  the 
elder  and  his  fierce-faced  brother,  brave  in  velvet 
which  fairly  jingled  with  metal  decorations,  were 
notably  prominent,  easily  taking  first  place  in  an 
assemblage  made  up  for  the  most  part,  so  far  at 
least  as  the  guests  were  concerned,  of  their  own 
supporters  and  allies.  Not  all,  it  is  true,  were 
of  the  number  of  either,  for  Francisco  noted  at 
least  a  few — Carillos,  Pachecos,  Berryessas — 
whom  he  felt  sure  were  there  as  Rivas'  guests 
solely,  and  not  to  afford  testimony  that  the  Gon 
zales  could  count  them  as  members  of  their  fac 
tion.  But  these,  neutrals,  as  they  might  be  called, 
were  few  compared  to  the  number  of  those  he 
knew  to  be  vowed  either  to  Rivas  or  Gonzales  in 
the  enmity  of  both  against  the  Morales.  Even 
were  they  disposed  to  actively  aid  him  in  opposi 
tion  to  the  others,  they  would  be  powerless  to  do 
so  effectively.  All  in  all,  the  aspect  of  the  interior 
of  Rivas '  great  hall  was  not  such  as  the  watcher 
at  the  vine-framed  window  found  encouraging. 

And  then,  in  a  second,  even  as  he  felt  for  the 
first  time  a  dawning  of  doubt,  a  weakening  of  that 
supreme  and  boyishly  absurd  confidence  in  his 
own  good  fortune,  his  eyes  brightened  with  a  glad 
light  and  his  cheek  grew  warm  with  throbbing 
blood.  Surely,  surely  this  was  worth  it  all ! 

Now  he  knew  his  eyes  had  not  deceived  him  in 
the  glimpse  he  had  gained  while  he  still  sat  in  the 
saddle.  The  red  roses  gleaming  bright  in  the  dark 


118    THE  NINE  SWOBDS  OF  MORALES 

masses  of  her  splendid  hair,  the  long,  drooping 
lashes  rendering  yet  more  beautiful  the  eyes  so 
bewitching  in  their  soft  blackness,  the  round  cheek 
glowing  with  just  a  tint  of  carmine,  the  full,  curv 
ing  lips  which  seemed  formed  but  for  the  tenderest 
of  smiles — was  ever,  the  watcher  wondered,  a  pic 
ture  so  fair  as  this  1 

Francisco  looked  and  adored,  half  mad  with 
love  and  longing,  almost  frantic,  too,  with  the 
thought  that  the  day  had  been  when  he  was  free 
to  worship  where  now  he  came  under  shadow  of 
the  dark,  stranger  and  outcast.  There  had  been 
nothing  between  them  in  the  old  days — nothing 
in  words — only  silent  adoration  and  a  hope  grow 
ing  ever  stronger  that  she  knew  what  he  had  not 
dared  to  utter,  knew — and  was  not  displeased. 
And  then,  with  no  word  of  warning,  had  come  the 
feud,  the  severance  of  old  friendships,  the  ending 
of  his  dream. 

But  had  it  ended?  Francisco  looked  again — 
or  rather  with  renewed  intentness,  for  his  eyes 
had  never  wavered  from  her  face — then  threw 
back  his  broad  shoulders  and  vowed  deep  in  his 
soul  that  it  should  never  end  while  the  heart 
within  his  breast  should  beat. 

Then  his  brows  grew  dark  again,  for  he  saw 
the  younger  Gonzales,  brother  of  him  who  had  in 
earlier  days  won  the  hand  of  her  coldly  beautiful 
sister,  bending  low  over  Yda  where  she  sat  and 
murmuring  something  in  her  ear.  What  it  was 
the  watcher  could  not  guess,  though,  if  impas 
sioned  looks  and  gesture  had  meaning,  it  was 
something  to  which  the  speaker  himself  attached 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    119 

more  than  slight  importance.  They  had  been 
dancing  together  but  a  few  moments  before.  Was 
he  urging  her  again  to  become  his  partner,  or  was 
it  some  graver  plea?  Francisco  was  a  gentleman 
by  nature  and  instinct,  and  the  meanness  of  the 
eavesdropper  was  something  of  which  he  had  no 
conception,  but  as  he  witnessed  that  unheard 
pleading  and  noted  the  look  of  trouble  which  crept 
upon  the  fair  face  of  the  listener,  he  felt  himself 
swayed  by  an  eagerness  to  know  all  that  was 
passing  before  him  that  was  almost  insupportable. 

In  the  intensity  of  his  feeling  he  forgot,  par 
tially  at  least,  the  caution  which  his  position  ren 
dered  so  necessary,  and  no  longer  remembered  to 
keep  back  a  little  from  the  lattice  that  the  light 
from  within  might  not  fall  upon  his  face.  But 
recollection  awoke  again,  and  with  a  shock,  when 
the  thought  was  suddenly  forced  upon  him  that 
Yda's  eyes  were  meeting  his  own,  in  any  case  that 
her  gaze  was  turned  exactly  in  his  direction.  He 
could  not  think  that  she  had  seen  him — except 
in  a  certain  possibly  fancied  intentness  with  which 
she  gazed  in  his  direction,  she  gave  no  sign — but 
he  was  reminded  in  an  instant  of  his  peril  from 
other  as  keen  and  less  friendly  eyes.  With  the 
first  impulse  of  restored  caution,  he  drew  his  face 
hastily  away  from  the  window  and  for  the  moment 
lost  sight  entirely  of  those  within  the  room. 

When  he  looked  again  it  was  to  see  Sanoho 
Gonzales  standing,  frowning  and  moody,  by  a  va 
cant  chair,  and  to  catch  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  a 
cluster  of  red  roses  as  the  wearer  disappeared 
through  a  doorway  leading,  as  Francisco  well 


120    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

knew,  to  the  more  private  apartments  of  the  house. 

Francisco  longed  to  laugh  aloud  in  reckless  hap 
piness.  Whatever  Gonzales  had  pleaded  for,  cer 
tain  it  was,  if  appearances  were  at  all  to  be  relied 
on,  it  had  been  denied  him.  Else  why  the  look  of 
gloom  upon  his  dark  features,  the  moodiness  of 
the  attitude  in  which  he  stood,  utterly  heedless,  to 
all  seeming,  of  notice  or  comment  from  others? 
Ungenerous  in  the  reaction  from  the  unformed 
dread  of  a  moment  before,  Francisco  again  found 
himself  thrusting  his  face  forward  to  the  window 
the  better  to  note  the  apparent  discomfiture  of  his 
rival. 

And  then,  though  no  sound  of  approaching  foot 
steps  had  warned  him,  a  hand  was  placed  upon 
his  arm,  and  a  low  voice  murmured  at  his  side : 

"Seiior,  are  you  mad?" 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


OF  SOMETHING  THAT  CAME  AFTER 

FOR  a  few  seconds  the  heart  in  Francisco's 
breast  seemed  to  stop  beating,  not  with 
dread,  but  through  very  madness  of  delight. 
Then,  in  the  friendly  shelter  of  the  foliage,  he 
caught  the  soft  hand  from  his  arm,  pressed  it 
again  and  again,  yet  with  all  tenderness  and  rev 
erence,  to  his  lips,  utterly  disregarding — indeed, 
not  noticing — the  girl's  slight  effort  to  draw  it 
away. 

"  Donna  Yda,  Donna  Yda !"  he  murmured,  heed 
less  of  all  but  the  joyous  madness  that  possessed 
him,  unable  even  now  to  give  it  utterance  in  words. 

Yda  trembled,  but  did  not  again  seek  to  draw 
away  her  hand — that,  indeed,  would  have  been 
impossible.  But  her  only  answer  to  the  almost 
wordless  manifestation  of  his  joy  was  to  repeat  in 
different  form  the  greeting — or  warning — she  had 
given  him  a  moment  before : 

"You  must  be  mad  to  be  here." 

"Mad?  I  have  been  so,  perhaps,"  whispered 
Francisco,  his  adoring  eyes  fixed  upon  the  flushing 
face  before  him.  "But  it  is  all  ended  now — all 
swallowed  up  in  happiness." 

121 


122    THE  NINE  SWOKDS  OF  MORALES 

i '  Hush,  hush !  they  will  hear !  And  oh,  why  did 
you  come?" 

"Is  not  the  answer  here,  Senorita?"  said  Fran 
cisco  softly,  no  less  moved  than  before,  but  now 
no  longer  finding  the  expression  of  his  delight 
impossible  in  words. 

All  the  coquetry  of  the  Rivas  blood  had  been 
centered  in  the  elder  sister,  that  coldly  beautiful 
Pancha,  because  of  whose  whims  and  fickleness 
weapons  had  more  than  once  been  drawn  and 
blood  been  shed  while  she  was  yet  almost  a  child. 
Yda's  nature  was  one  of  absolute  sincerity,  and 
there  was  no  pretence,  only  a  faint  note  of  wonder, 
in  her  low  voice  as  she  answered  Francisco's 
speech. 

"I,  Senor?    I?" 

Then  the  blush  deepened  in  her  cheek,  and  she 
sought  to  draw  away  her  hands — he  had  them 
both  now — as  if  realizing  for  the  first  time  that 
the  warm  clasp  in  which  he  held  them,  the  passion 
ate  kisses  he  had  pressed  upon  them,  meant  some 
thing  more  than  the  gay  gallantry  which  she  re 
membered  in  him  when  she  was  but  a  child  and 
he  also  too  youthful,  even  had  she  been  otherwise, 
for  her  to  give  more  than  a  passing  thought  to 
his  romantic  seeming  of  devotion;  but  his  gentle 
clasp  did  not  relax,  and  the  effect  of  her  words 
and  action  seemed  but  to  drive  from  the  wild 
youth's  mind  every  remembrance  of  the  peril  of 
his  position,  every  thought  but  the  one — intox 
icating,  maddening — that  the  loneliness  of  the  past 
year  was  ended ;  that  she  was  with  him  once  again 
— she,  the. one  fair  maid  in  all  the  world  for  him! 


THE  NINE  SWOKDS  OF  MORALES    123 

— and  that  now  at  last  it  was  his  to  tell  her  all 
that  was  in  his  passionate  young  heart. 

So  he  held  the  little  hands  the  closer  in  his 
own  strong  clasp,  not  touching  her  otherwise  in 
the  chivalrous  reverence  that  was  a  part  of  his 
loyal  love,  though  he  drew  her  so  close  to  him 
as  they  stood  amid  the  shielding  shrubbery  that 
he  needed  but  to  whisper  for  her  to  hear  his  pas 
sionate  words: 

"You,  Donna  Yda!  All  these  months  I  have 
lived  on  the  memory  of  my  last  look  upon  your 
face !  Yda,  Yda !  forgive  me  if  my  words  seem 
folly.  If  only  you  knew  how  I  have  longed  for 
you,  thirsted  for  you,  maddened  for  you!" 

"Oh,  hush,  hush!    They  will  hear> 

Indeed,  that  seemed  true,  for  even  as  he  spoke 
in  his  deep  undertone,  a  group  of  the  merry 
makers  within  had  swept  up  to  the  window,  where 
some  of  them  stood  now  almost  pressing  against 
the  lattice.  But  it  could  not  have  been  merely 
this  which  caused  Donna  Yda  to  shudder  so  vio 
lently.  Was  it  not  a  face — and  his,  of  all  others ! 
—that  she  had  seen  pressed  against  the  frame 
work? 

The  fear  in  her  eyes  was  at  once  a  warning  and 
an  indication,  and  Francisco 's  glance  followed  her 
own.  But  he  saw  nothing  more  startling  than  the 
group  of  figures  standing  close  against  the  win 
dow,  though  surely  for  any  one  less  heedless  than 
himself  that  circumstance  was  sufficiently  alarm 
ing.  Even  he,  answering,  however,  rather  the 
dread  in  Yda's  eyes  than  any  recognition  of  peril 
in  his  own  mind,  moved  quietly  back  from  the 


124:    THE  NINE  SWOKDS  OF  MORALES 

window,  still  keeping  close  to  the  wall,  and  draw 
ing  Yda  gently  with  him  by  the  little  hands  he  still 
held  so  tenderly  yet  strongly. 

"It  is  nothing,"  he  whispered  soothingly. 
"They  did  not  see." 

But  Yda  trembled  and  still  glanced  about  her 
with  affrighted  eyes. 

"Ah,  do  not  fear,  mi  querida!"  he  murmured 
caressingly.  "Indeed,  I  will  go — yes,  and  at  once, 
if  my  presence  brings  you  dread. ' ' 

"Yes,  yes,  Senor,  you  have  said  it,"  she  an 
swered,  hurriedly  whispering;  "you  must  go— 
and  go  at  once." 

"Ah,  Donna  Yda,  you  are  cruel." 

"No,  no,  no!    But  you  have  promised." 

"Yes — and  I  will  keep  my  word.  But  ah,  Se- 
norita,  it  is  not  so  I  would  prove  how  wholly  I 
bend  my  will  to  yours.  And  I  go  without  one  word 
from  you!  But — forgive  me.  Adios,  Senorita, 
since  it  must  be  so." 

He  released  her  hands,  lifted  the  broad  hat 
from  his  head,  and  bent  low  in  farewell,  but  as  he 
moved  toward  the  outer  edge  of  the  porch  he  felt 
her  light  touch  upon  his  velvet  sleeve.  He  turned 
eagerly.  Her  eyes  were  downcast,  but  the  gentle 
ness  of  her  voice  was  balm  and  music  to  him. 

"I  bade  you  go,  Sefior,  but  I  would  not  have  the 
old  playmate  leave  me  in  unkindness." 

He  dropped  his  hat  upon  the  floor  and  caught 
both  her  hands  again. 

' '  You  remember  the  old  days,  Donna  Yda  ?  The 
boy  Francisco,  and  his — " 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    125 

"And  his  tempers,  Senor.  Yes,  and  I  see  lie 
has  them  still,"  interrupted  Yda,  faintly  smiling. 

"Yes,  yes,"  whispered  Francisco,  with  eager 
passion;  "the  old  tempers — aye!  and  the  old  love, 
the  old  worship,  for  the  fairest,  sweetest  maid  in 
all  the  world  to  him !  Oh,  Yda !  Yda !  am  I  mad 
with  joy  that  I  dare  believe  she  is  still  my  own 
— my  own  ? ' ' 

The  girl  shrank  back  from  him,  white-faced  and 
trembling. 

* '  No,  no ;  you  must  not, ' '  she  whispered.  ' '  You 
do  not  know. ' ' 

He  pressed  closer  again,  eagerly,  yet  with  ten 
der  reverence,  forbearing  now  even  to  do  so  much 
as  touch  her  hands. 

"I  know  that  I  love  you,  Yda,  my  Yda!  Only 
that,  only  that!" 

The  pain  deepened  in  her  eyes,  and  then  for  a 
moment  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"You  must  not,  you  must  not,"  she  murmured 
brokenly.    "I  dare  not  listen.    I  have  no  right- 
not  now ! ' ' 

Something  like  a  chill  seized  upon  his  heart  at 
her  last  words,  and  the  manner  of  their  utterance. 
He  pressed  no  nearer  to  her  now,  and  the  light  and 
life  seemed  suddenly  to  die  from  his  glowing 
young  face. 

"Yda,"  he  said  at  last,  "am  I  indeed  too  late!" 

She  did  not  answer  in  words,  but  bent  her  head 
as  if  in  feeble  assent.  Then,  half  unconsciously, 
her  eyes  turned  to  the  window  and  the  room  be 
yond.  Francisco 's  glance  followed — and  fell  upon 
Sancho  Gonzales,  brilliant  in  crimson  velvet  and 


126    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

glittering  braid  of  gold,  where  lie  swayed  to  and 
fro,  handsome,  but  cold  and  haughty  even  in  his 
relaxation,  amid  the  groups  of  dancers. 

Herrera  's  eyes  grew  fierce  and  glaring,  and  for 
a  moment  the  glittering  crimson  figure  seemed  to 
lose  its  outlines  and  fade  into  a  red  mist  which  he 
felt  was  somehow  getting  into  his  brain  and  mov 
ing  him  to  madness.  Then  he  became  aware  of 
Yda  's  quivering  touch  upon  his  arm  and  heard  her 
tremulous  whisper  at  his  ear : 

"Ah,  do  not,  do  not  look  so!  What  have  I 
done?" 

The  fury  died  at  once  from  his  heart  and  eyes. 
He  turned  half  away  with  a  slow,  hopeless  move 
ment  which  went  to  her  soul  as  no  outbreak  of 
violent  anger  could  have  done. 

"Oh,  Yda,  Yda!"  he  said  gently,  "who  would 
have  dreamed  you  could  forget  so  soon ! ' ' 

She  moved  swiftly  nearer  to  him  at  that,  and 
pressed  her  hands  upon  his  arm  with  a  gesture 
at  once  imploring  and  protesting. 

"What  was  there  to  remember?"  she  whispered. 
' '  How  have  you  the  heart  to  reproach  me — to  be 
so  unjust?  We  had  been  boy  and  girl  together. 
We  had — yes,  I  will  say  even  this ! — we  had  played 
at  lovers.  But  as  we  grew  older,  what  had  you 
ever  said  to  me  other  than  to  others?  What  to 
prove  you  more  than  a  comrade,  a  friend?  Ah,  no, 
no,  I  would  not  seem  to  reproach  you,  but,  oh, 
Francisco,  when  you  rode  away  for  the  last  time 
and  ranged  yourself  against  my  father  and  his 
people,  what  was  there  for  me  to  remember? 
What  to  give  me  thought  that  you  would  ever 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    127 

come  back  to  me?  What  to  make  me  forget  in 
such  memory  that  the  comrade  of  my  childhood 
was  the  fierce  rider  who  raided  my  kinsmen's  lands 
with  the  mad  Morales?  Ah,  Francisco,  is  it  kind, 
is  it  just,  to  reproach  me?" 

Once  more  he  caught  both  her  hands  in  his, 
disregarding  her  feeble  resistance,  and  pressed 
them  again  to  his  lips. 

' '  God  forbid  that  I  should  blame  you, ' '  he  whis 
pered.  ' '  Mine  the  folly,  mine  alone — I  could  pray 
that  mine  only  should  be  the  pain !  But,  oh,  Yda, 
even  though  I  had  deserved  to  be  forgotten — how 
could  it  be?" 

Her  head  drooped,  she  did  not  seem  able  to 
meet  his  eyes,  and  her  whispered  words  were  fal 
tering  and  broken. 

"I — I  do  not  know.  He  is  my  father's  friend — 
my  sister's  near  kinsman.  All  seemed  to  wish  it. 
They  talked  of  the  feud — of  the  need  of  binding 
friends  more  closely.  I — I  do  not  know  that  I 
cared  for  him — at  first.  Yet  he  was  gay  and  hand 
some — and  he  seemed  to  think  much  of  me.  Per 
haps  I  was  moved — a  little.  Perhaps — oh,  Fran 
cisco  !  why  were  you  away — or  why  did  you  ever 
return  ? ' ' 

Again  he  caught  her  hands,  again  he  drew  her 
nearer  to  him,  this  time  with  a  masterfulness  of 
possession  which  frightened  her. 

"Querida,  mi  querida,"  he  whispered,  tenderly, 
passionately,  the  despair  all  gone  from  his  voice 
now,  ' i  you  have  said  too  much.  I  shall  never  give 
you  up.  I  have  been  a  laggard  lover,  but  it  is 


128    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

not  too  late.  You  are  mine,  mine,  mine!  Mine 
ever  and  mine  only ! '  * 

' '  Oh,  hush,  hush !    He  has  my  word ! ' ' 

"  And  I,  Yda,  love  of  my  soul,  light  of  my  eyes ! 
what  have  I?" 

And  then,  as  if  her  will  could  no  longer  endure, 
she  sank  weakly  against  his  breast,  and  her  answer 
was  almost  a  sob: 

"My  heart,  Francisco!" 

His  arms  were  round  her  even  as  she  spoke, 
and  she  whispered  the  words  with  his  face  press 
ing  the  thick  masses  of  her  clustering  hair  and 
his  lips  almost  against  her  cheek.  She  made  no 
effort  against  him  now,  and  when  she  spoke  again 
it  was  only  to  murmur,  "I  have  missed  you  so, 
Francisco ! ' '  whereat  that  wild  young  lover  almost 
went  mad  entirely,  and  felt  himself  possessed  of 
an  insane  desire  to  seize  and  lift  the  slight  form 
before  him  bodily  in  his  arms,  to  bear  her  at  once 
into  the  throng  of  enemies  so  near,  and  there  defy 
any  and  all  to  take  her  from  him.  Something  of 
wild  recklessness  it  seemed  for  one  instant  that 
he  must  do  to  ease  the  fierce  throbbing  of  his 
heart  and  the  hot  tumult  in  his  brain.  And  what 
he  did  was  only  to  bend  his  head  yet  a  little  lower, 
to  clasp  her  just  a  little  more  closely,  but  with 
nothing  of  rudeness  in  his  loving  pressure,  and  to 
whisper  over  and  over  again  in  the  soft  words  of 
the  language  that  seems  made  for  love — "My 
darling,  my  darling,  my  darling!" 

Again  the  sound  of  jest  and  laughter  but  a  few 
feet  away  broke  in  upon  them,  and  Yda  drew  her 
self  quickly  from  Francisco's  arms. 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    129 

"You  must  go,"  she  whispered;  "but — you  will 
come  again?" 

"Will  I  not?    Oh,  Yda!" 

"But  I  would  not — Ah,  go,  go!  Quick!  oh,  be 
quick ! ' ' 

She  pushed  him  from  her,  and  Francisco,  half 
desperate  at  the  thought  of  parting,  yet  did  not 
hesitate,  for  there  was  that  in  her  frightened  whis 
per  and  nervous  action  which  told  him  there  was 
no  time  to  lose.  Obeying  the  pressure  of  her 
hands,  he  moved  swiftly  along  the  porch  in  a  di 
rection  away  from  the  door,  out  of  which,  had  he 
paused  to  look,  he  might  at  that  moment  have  seen 
the  first  of  a  strolling  group  begin  to  issue.  What 
he  did  not  see  he  heard,  however,  and  while  his 
proud  young  spirit  writhed  that  he  should  seem 
to  play  a  skulker 's  part,  he  did  not  spare  any 
effort  that  could  tend  to  keep  his  presence  secret 
and  so  save  the  girl  he  loved  distress  and  humilia 
tion.  His  softly  shod  and  unspurred  feet  made  no 
sound,  the  shadow  afforded  by  the  successive  clus 
ters  of  shrubbery  served  him  well,  and  when  he 
finally  stepped  from  the  end  of  the  porch  upon  the 
ground  and  amid  darkness  which  seemed  to  render 
special  efforts  at  concealment  no  longer  necessary, 
he  had  no  reason  to  believe  that  his  presence  had 
been  observed  by  unfriendly  eyes. 

A  while  he  waited  in  the  deeper  shadow  of  an 
oak  that  stood  conveniently  near,  while  the  light- 
hearted  merrymakers  upon  the  porch,  whom  he 
noted  that  Yda  had  at  once  joined,  lingered  about 
the  door.  Their  action  in  leaving  the  interior  of 
the  casa  had  apparently  been  aimless,  however,  or 


130    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

nearly  so,  for  a  few  moments  in  the  open  air 
seemed  to  content  them.  Then,  greatly  to  Fran 
cisco's  satisfaction,  save  that  Yda  went  with  them, 
he  saw  the  last  of  the  group  disappear  within  the 
doorway.  Realizing  then  that,  since  it  was  his 
fate  to  go  without  hope  of  another  glimpse  of  the 
fair  girl  now  so  measurelessly  dear  to  him,  it  was 
wisdom  to  depart  at  once,  he  made  his  way  as  ex- 
peditiously  as  might  be  toward  the  spot  where 
Pepe  had  taken  charge  of  his  horse. 

As  he  neared  the  place,  walking  carefully  in 
the  darkness,  he  saw  that  the  animal  had  been 
moved  slightly  aside,  and  now  stood  beneath  the 
limbs  of  one  of  the  large  oaks  of  the  grove  amid 
which  Don  Pedro  Rivas  had  built  his  home.  But 
surely,  making  all  allowance  for  the  deceptiveness 
of  the  half-light,  that  could  not  be  Pepe's  stocky 
figure  standing  at  the  bridle-rein.  And  as  he 
paused  a  voice  spoke,  and  resolved  his  doubts,  but 
not  as  he  would  have  had  them  ended. 

"Whose  horse  is-  it — and  why  are  you  sitting 
there  in  the  dark?"  asked  the  voice. 

Pepe's  answer  was  slow  in  coming.  The  old- 
time  California  Indian  had  no  special  objection  to 
lying,  but  civilization  and  education  were  neces 
sary  to  make  him  do  it  glibly.  The  reply  came 
finally — Pepe's  known  sluggishness  of  thought 
and  speech  serving,  though  unconsciously  to  him 
self,  to  strengthen  its  plausibility : 

"I  do  not  know  the  horse — some  one  of  the  se- 
nors  rode  it.  I  waited  to  know  if  I  should  take  it 
to  the  stable. " 

"Do  so  now.    Go!" 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    131 

Pepe  arose  slowly  from  his  seat  against  the  tree- 
trunk.  There  was  a  double  reason  for  his  hesi 
tancy.  Added  to  his  dislike  to  place  Herrera's 
horse  even  temporarily  out  of  its  rider's  reach, 
was  a  feeling  of  deep  and  sullen  anger  that  the 
man  before  him  should  dare  give  him  orders  as 
a  master.  To  obey  old  Rivas,  upon  whose  lands 
he  had  voluntarily  made  his  home,  was  one  thing ; 
to  take  commands  from  others,  to  whom  he  felt 
no  sense  of  obligation,  was  quite  different.  Ordi 
narily,  perhaps,  he  would  have  thought  little  of 
the  matter;  now,  angered  as  he  was  on  behalf  of 
the  reckless  young  adventurer  who  had  often 
shown  him  kindness,  Pepe's  queer  intellect,  with 
its  hidden  but  strong  leaven  of  savagery,  rapidly 
began  to  build  up  a  cause  for  offense  that  was 
almost  mortal. 

The  man  most  vitally  concerned  knew  nothing 
of  it,  of  course,  but  as  the  Indian  approached  as 
if  to  do  as  he  was  bidden,  Sancho  Gonzales  stood 
very  near  to  death. 

But  the  fever  of  sullen  fury  died  in  Pepe 's  being 
as  silently  as  it  had  arisen,  and,  quietly  loosening 
the  hitching-cord,  he  led  the  animal  away  in  the 
direction  of  the  stables.  Gonzales  watched  him 
until  there  was  little  to  be  seen  in  the  darkness, 
then,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  strolled  back  to 
ward  the  house. 

Pepe's  progress  grew  more  and  more  lagging 
as  he  neared  the  stables,  the  more  so,  perhaps, 
that  a  glance  backward  had  shown  him  the  tall 
figure  of  Gonzales  moving  away  in  the  direction 
of  the  casa.  When  the  first  corner  of  the  out- 

10 


132    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

buildings  cut  him  off  from  view  of  the  house  he 
stopped  altogether.  He  must  think — and  with 
Pepe  thinking  was  something  not  often  to  be  done 
in  a  hurry. 

But,  as  it  chanced,  even  the  effort  was  spared 
him,  for  a  soft,  swift  step  approached  him  now, 
and  Herrera's  own  voice  reassured  him. 

"Good  Pepe,"  said  the  lad,  a  deeper  feeling 
than  usual  in  his  ordinarily  careless  tones.  "You 
have  been  my  friend  to-night.  I  will  not  forget 
it" 

"And  you  will  go  now?"  said  Pepe,  stolidly  as 
ever,  but  his  hearer  guessed  and  almost  laughed 
out  at  the  world  of  relief  that  was  concealed  by 
those  emotionless  accents. 

"Yes,  Pepe,  I  will  go  now,"  he  said  gaily. 

i  i  Not  quite  yet,  I  think, ' '  uttered  another  voice, 
and  a  hand  met  his  own  on  the  bridle-rein. 

Sancho  Gonzales  stood  beside  them. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

IN    WHICH    OCCURS    AN    ESCAPE,    ALSO    A    CAPTURE,    AN 
ACCUSATION,  AND  AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  RETURN 

IN  THE  days  when  the  fame  of  Herrera  the 
Eaider  filled  the  land  it  was  said  of  him,  and 
not  alone  by  friends,  that  he  had  the  lightest 
foot,  the  swiftest  thought,  and  the  surest  hand  of 
any  in  Sonoma.  The  Gonzales,  above  all  others, 
had  had  rueful  reason  to  accord  him  this  suprem 
acy.  And  surely  Sancho  did  not  recognize  who  it 
was  that  stood  within  his  grasp,  or  he  had  scarcely 
acted  as  he  did.  He  had  heard  enough  to  know 
the  stranger  for  an  enemy,  but  it  did  not  cross 
his  mind  that  it  could  be  that  enemy.  Yet  Gon 
zales  showed  no  lack  of  promptness  in  his  action, 
albeit  it  was  rather  of  word  than  of  deed. 

" Seize  them  both,  Senors — and  the  horse!"  lie 
said. 

There  was  a  rush  of  men — but  a  blow,  a  leap, 
a  quick  word  to  his  steed,  and  Francisco  was  safe 
in  the  saddle  and  dashing  away  at  a  speed  which, 
even  from  the  beginning,  seemed  to  place  his  es 
cape  almost  beyond  question.  But  not  so  swiftly 
the  good  horse  sped  that  the  rider  did  not  hear 
Gonzales  speak  again,  and.  in  a  tone  in  which 


133 


134    THE  NINE  SWOEDS  OF  MORALES 

anger,  triumph,  and  a  hint  of  something  else 
seemed  ail  to  blend : 

' '  Let  him  go.    At  least  we  have  the  Indian  dog. ' ' 

If  Gonzales  meant,  as  was  instantly  suspected 
by  Herrera,  that  the  latter  should  hear  his  words, 
he  succeeded,  but  if  he  hoped  that  such  hearing 
would  stay  the  fugitive's  flight,  he  had  reason  to 
believe  the  hope  a  failure.  True,  it  did  seem  to 
all  of  those  through  whose  grasp  Herrera  had 
slipped  so  quickly  that  there  was  a  sudden  pause 
in  the  sound  of  the  rapidly  receding  hoof-beats, 
but  it  was  only  for  an  instant,  for  almost  before 
it  could  be  noted  the  swift  patter  of  Muchacho's 
flying  feet  was  again  to  be  heard,  continuing  until 
the  sound  died  away  to  the  northward. 

Gonzales,  who  had  made  no  move  toward  pur 
suit,  apparently  realizing  that  it  would  be  hope 
less,  listened  until  there  was  no  longer  anything 
to  be  heard,  then  spoke,  and,  to  do  him  justice, 
there  was  something  of  honest  scorn  in  his  voice : 

" There  is  a  caballero!"  he  sneered.  "What  to 
him  is  the  fate  of  his  friend?" 

And  neither  to  Gonzales  nor  to  any  of  his  fel 
low  captors  of  poor  Pepe  did  it  seem  to  occur  that 
a  horse  might  flee  without  a  rider — and  that  dark 
ness  covers  much. 

But  they  haled  the  stolid  Indian  across  the 
grounds  to  the  casa  and  dragged  him  in  without 
warning  before  Don  Pedro  Rivas,  where  that 
courtly  mannered  host  sat  in  the  midst  of  a  group 
of  his  elder  guests.  The  old  ranchero's  eye  kin 
dled  as  he  saw  what  was  being  done,  for,  though 
knowing  nothing  of  the  circumstances,  he  was  not 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    135 

accustomed  to  see  his  dependents  harshly  used, 
if  at  all,  by  any  but  himself.  There  was  that  in 
his  look  which  caused  all  but  Sancho  Gonzales,  of 
the  few  who  had  made  the  capture,  to  fall  back 
from  the  unresisting  prisoner  as  the  latter  was 
brought  before  the  master  of  the  hacienda.  All 
the  guests  gathered  in  a  wide  circle,  the  music 
ceasing,  and  Don  Pedro's  displeasure  probably 
was  not  lessened  by  the  fact  that  this  untoward 
incident  should  so  have  interrupted  his  merry 
making.  His  voice  was  at  its  coldest  when  he 
spoke. 

"Senor  Sancho  Gonzales,"  he  said,  giving  his 
guest  his  full  name,  as  if  to  emphasize  the  fact  that 
it  was  the  younger  brother,  and  not  his  own  son- 
in-law  that  he  addressed,  "I  do  not  understand 
jests  such  as  this.  Perhaps  you  will  explain." 

But  Gonzales  declined  to  be  daunted. 

"I  bring  you  a  traitor,  Don  Pedro,"  he  said 
quietly. 

"A  traitor!" 

"Yes — traitor  and  spy  both.  What  else  the 
man  of  your  own  people  who  brings  a  Morales  to 
your  very  doors;  perhaps" — and  then,  for  a  fleet 
ing  instant,  did  his  eyes  rest  accusingly  upon  one 
pale  and  shrinking  face — "perhaps,  almost  if  not 
quite  within  those  doors!" 

"And  this,  you  say,  Pepe  has  done!" 

"He  has.  This  moment  the  skulker  escaped, 
but  not  until  we  had  seen  and  heard  enough  to 
know  that  he  was  here  with  the  Indian  dog's  aid." 

"Spare  your  abuse  of  any  of  my  following, 
Senor,  if  you  would  remain  friend  of  mine, ' '  said 


136    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

old  Rivas  sternly.  "If  this  man  be  guilty,  mine 
be  his  punishing.  Until  then  lie  is  the  dweller 
within  my  gates,  the  eater  of  my  bread — and  no 
man,  high  or  low,  shall  wrong  him.  He  has  yet 
to  say  his  say." 

"Speak!"  said  Gonzales. 

Pepe's  face  remained  as  expressionless  as  if 
carved  in  wood,  but  he  looked  Gonzales  silently 
in  the  face  for  a  full  moment,  and  to  one  capable 
of  reading  what  meaning  lay  in  the  depths  of  his 
black  eyes  it  must  have  been  apparent  that  the 
hate  and  contempt  of  his  look  were  alike  measure 
less.  Something  of  this  at  least  Gonzales  him 
self  realized,  and  the  veins  swelled  on  his  temples. 

"Speak!"  he  shouted  again,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  he  would  rush  upon  the  stolid  figure  before  him. 

But  Rivas  bent  his  dark  brows  upon  him,  and 
his  elder  brother,  Ramon  Gonzales,  laid  a  restrain 
ing  hand  on  his  arm.  Then  Rivas  himself  turned 
to  his  sullen  dependent. 

"You  will  speak  to  me,  Pepe,"  he  said  gently. 
"Tell  me,  muchacho,  what  is  it  all?" 

Pepe  had,  within  the  last  few  moments,  brought 
that  phase  of  his  complicated  nature  uppermost 
that  would  have  moved  him  to  go  silently  to  the 
stake  rather  than  yield  a  hair 's  breadth  upon  even 
a  more  trifling  matter  than  this  at  the  bidding  of 
one  he  might  choose  to  regard  as  his  foe.  But  he 
was  not  proof  against  the  kindness  in  the  voice 
and  look  of  old  Don  Pedro.  He  spoke  at  once,  in 
short,  broken  sentences  framed  almost  equally  of 
Spanish  and  aboriginal  words : 

"One  come  from  the  road — there.     I  take  the 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    137 

horse.    He  come  to  casa — here.    By  and  by  come 
back,  take  the  horse — go ! ' ' 

"And  that  is  all?" 

"AIL" 

"Bali!  he  trifles  with  you,  Don  Pedro,"  said 
Sancho  Gonzales  in  fierce  impatience,  but  Rivas 
seemed  not  to  hear. 

' '  And  his  name,  Pepe  ? "  he  said. 

Pepe's  eyes  slowly  sank  to  the  floor,  and  he  did 
not  answer. 

"Do  you  not  know  him,  Pepe?"  asked  his  mas 
ter  with  yet  no  change  in  the  gentleness  of  his 
questioning. 

"Yes — I  know,"  said  Pepe  sullenly. 

"And  his  name!"  said  Rivas  once  again. 

But  Pepe  remained  silent.  Had  something  in 
a  white  and  frightened  face,  framed  by  dark  hair 
and  crimson  roses,  set  his  slow  brain  thinking 
again?  Had  it  already  begun  to  work  into  his 
mind  that  what  might  not  injure  the  fugitive  could 
not,  therefore,  be  held  certainly  harmless  as  to 
others  ?  However  all  this  may  have  been,  he  gave 
no  answer  to  the  question  last  asked  him,  but  bent 
his  fixed  gaze  stolidly  on  the  floor. 

"A  dozen  lashes  might  make  him  talk,"  sug 
gested  the  younger  Gonzales. 

"Or  clipping  his  ears,"  said  the  elder. 

"Neither  of  which  plans  will  be  tried,"  said 
Rivas,  in  cold  anger,  again  deeply  incensed  at  his 
guests'  inclination  to  trench  upon  his  own  special 
prerogatives.  Perhaps  his  indignation  at  this 
moved  him  to  be  more  lenient  than  he  had  in- 


138    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

tended,  for  certainly  many  besides  the  Gonzales 
were  surprised  when  he  added : 

"I  think  we  have  asked  enough.  The  stranger 
came  and  went — and  Pepe  held  his  horse.  I  do 
not  think  we  need  count  that  a  crime.  For  the 
rest,  if  Pepe  have  reason  for  not  betraying  the 
stranger's  name,  let  him  keep  it  a  secret,  I,  for 
one,  believe  my  servant  neither  spy  nor  traitor. 
Let  that  end  it." 

The  younger  Gonzales  opened  his  lips  as  if  to 
make  an  angry  rejoinder,  but  the  elder  checked 
him. 

"Don  Pedro  Rivas,"  he  said  gravely,  "I  am 
not  wont  to  fail  in  respect  to  you,  and  I  hope  I 
do  not  do  so  now.  But,  permit  me  to  say,  that 
this  should  not  end  so  briefly.  We  should  know 
whom  we  may  trust.  If  there  are  spies  in  our 
households  we  should  root  them  out.  This  man 
may  be  guiltless — I  accuse  him  of  nothing — but 
I  say  we  have  not  tested  either  the  charge  or  de 
nial  as  yet.  For  the  Indian's  own  sake,  let  it  not 
end  thus.  Let  him  clear  himself,  if  he  can,  here 
and  now.  There  are  those  of  our  faction  whom  it 
would  otherwise  be  ill  for  him  to  meet  beyond 
the  shelter  of  your  hand. ' ' 

Rivas  seemed  impressed,  despite  himself,  by  the 
words  of  his  son-in-law,  but  he  spoke  in  reply  with 
a  little  impatience. 

"How  is  anything  to  be  proved?"  he  asked. 
* '  Allow  him  to  be  abused  I  will  not. ' ' 

"It  would  seem,  if  what  he  says  is  true,"  an 
swered  Gonzales,  "that  to  some  part  at  least  of 
his  story  he  might  have  a  witness." 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    139 

There  was  such  a  witness,  and  even  as  the  sug 
gestion  was  made,  had  any  one  had  eyes  for  other 
than  the  central  figures  in  the  scene  before  them, 
they  must  have  noted  the  white-faced  girl  with  the 
red  roses  in  her  hair  start  from  her  place  and 
press  forward  to  her  father's  side,  with  the  light 
of  an  awakened  purpose  in  her  eyes.  But  even 
as  those  nearest  turned  to  follow  her  rapid  move 
ment,  there  came  a  more  startling  interruption. 

A  quiet  voice  spoke  from  the  outermost  rim  of 
the  circle : 

"I  will  be  Pepe's  witness — I,  Francisco  Her- 


CHAPTEE  XX 

HOW  FRANCISCO  HEEKEEA  FOUND  FRIENDS  IN  NEED  IN 
THE  MIDST  OF  THOSE  HE  HAD  COUNTED  FOES 

THE  circle  broke  apart  at  once  to  see  the 
speaker,  and  Herrera  was  left  standing 
alone  almost  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  with  the 
majority  of  Rivas'  guests  in  two  groups  upon 
either  side.  He  stepped  forward  a  few  paces  as 
he  saw  the  way  open  before  him,  his  broad  hat 
swinging  in  his  hand,  and  bowed  low,  once  to 
the  gray  master  of  the  house  and  again  to  the 
group  of  ladies  standing  near  him.  This  with  the 
smile  of  an  expected  rather  than  an  unwelcome 
guest  upon  his  handsome  face,  and  nothing  in  his 
air  otherwise  not  in  keeping  with  the  former 
character.  When  he  spoke  it  was  in  a  voice  which 
seemed  full  of  frank  confidence,  almost  gaiety. 

"I  ask  your  pardon,  Senor  Don  Pedro  Rivas," 
he  said,  "for  entering  unannounced.  Perhaps  I 
should  do  so  likewise,  judging  from  the  looks  of 
some  I  see  about  me,  that  I  have  come  to  your 
merrymaking  at  all,  lacking  an  invitation.  For 
the  first  offense  I  have  to  say  that  I  found  no  one 
at  your  door  to  whom  to  make  my  presence  known ; 
for  the  second,  I  have  not  been,  in  days  gone  by, 
so  great  a  stranger  to  Don  Pedro  Rivas  as  not  to 

140 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    141 

know  that  beneath  his  roof  all  come  as  they  list 
and  are  welcome." 

Black  looks  had  already  gathered  on  not  a  few 
of  the  faces  within  the  great  room,  but  Francisco, 
as  he  cast  a  swift  glance  about,  while  awaiting 
Don  Pedro's  response,  met  all  with  the  cheerful 
smile  of  one  who  knows  himself  in  the  circle  of 
his  friends.  So  gallant  and  confident  was  his  air, 
so  handsome  his  bright  young  face,  that  it  was  not 
in  the  heart  of  any  woman  there  to  look  upon 
him  other  than  with  kindly  eyes.  Yet  scarcely  one 
among  them  needed  to  be  told  that  with  their 
fathers,  brothers,  and  other  male  kinsmen  this 
man  stood  at  enmity  which  might  at  almost  any 
instant  become  mortal.  There  were  smiles  for 
him  in  more  than  one  pair  of  lovely  dark  eyes; 
blushes,  too,  upon  more  than  one  round  cheek — 
for  what  fair  maid  who  remembered  the  days  be 
fore  the  great  feud  but  could  recall  some  gay 
prank,  some  irresistibly  comic  freak  of  boyish  sen 
timentality,  of  which  this  light-hearted  cavalier 
had  been  the  hero,  herself,  perhaps,  the  laughing 
victim.  Imp  of  mischief  he  had  ever  been  through 
all  his  childhood  and  youth,  but — and  it  stood  him 
in  good  stead  now — there  had  never  been  that,  in 
the  worst  of  his  pranks,  to  leave  a  sting  behind. 
Perhaps  not  until  this  moment,  when  they  saw  him 
again  in  the  circle  where  he  had  been  so  familiar  a 
figure,  did  many  there  fully  realize  how  much  had 
been  lacking  in  his  absence. 

But  others  looked  upon  him  with  sterner  eyes. 
To  these  he  was  not  the  gay,  light-hearted  leader 
of  fandango  and  merrymaking — rather  chief 


U-2    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

among  the  allies  of  the  wild  Morales  riders,  him 
self  the  leader  of  a  band  of  vaquero-retainers 
more  reckless  than  himself,  if  that  were  possible, 
every  man  of  them  so  ruthlessly  ready  in  keeping 
plain  and  path  that  no  Gonzales  henchman  rode 
abroad  without  his  bounds  by  night  or  day  but 
in  peril  of  returning  stripped  of  weapons  and 
afoot,  harried  to  the  last  point  of  endurance,  and 
thankful  amid  the  wrath  of  his  soul  that  his  tor 
mentors  had  thus  far  drawn  the  line  at  taking 
human  life  except  in  actual  defense  of  their  own. 

It  could  scarcely  be  otherwise  than  that  some 
such  thoughts  as  these  were  in  the  mind  of  old 
Don  Pedro  Rivas  himself,  as  well  as  in  those  of 
his  sterner  guests,  as  he  gazed  upon  the  erect  fig 
ure  and  confident  face  before  him.  If  so,  he  suf 
fered  no  trace  of  them  to  appear  in  his  demeanor. 
He  only  bowed  gravely  and  spoke  with  a  grace 
of  gesture  and  courtesy  of  tone  which  had  made 
him  famous  even  among  compatriots  with  whom 
the  like  were  instinct. 

"Senor  Herrera,  I  have  only  to  say  that,  now 
as  ever,  you  are  welcome.  The  man  who  makes 
himself  my  guest  does  honor  to  my  roof.  While 
you  rest  beneath  it  the  house  is  yours  and  the 
master's  service  with  it." 

The  old  man  finished  his  stately  spooHi  of  wel 
come,  as  he  had  begun,  with  a  bow,  and  this  Fran 
cisco  returned  as  he  spoke  again. 

"Your  kindness  is  as  ever,  worthy  of  your  name, 
Senor,"  he  said.  "Suffer  me  not,  however,  to 
trench  upon  it  further  than  may  be  needful.  F^epe, 
your  follower  here,  is  accused  and  through  my 


THE  XIX  E  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    143 

fault.  I  wish  only  to  say  that  suspicions  which 
impute  plotting  or  treachery  to  him  as  against 
you  or  your  house  are  unjust  and  unfounded.  He 
knew  nothing  of  my  coming  this  night  until  I  dis 
mounted  before  your  door.  We  spoke  but  a  mo 
ment  together  when,  as  he  has  said,  I  left  my  horse 
with  him  and  approached  nearer  to  your  dwelling. 
What  he  said  to  me  was  only  to  urge  that  I  de 
part  at  once,  and  as  I  had  come,  unnoticed.  When 
I  rejoined  him  later  his  words  conveyed  nothing 
but  the  same  request.  True,  in  so  urging  me,  he 
was  seeking  to  spare  me  trouble,  perhaps  danger, 
but  I  would  point  out  that  he  was,  by  the  same  act, 
serving  you,  his  master,  to  the  same  end.  Plotter 
or  traitor  he  is  not.  For  this  you  have  my  word, 
and  I  dare  believe,  Don  Pedro,  even  in  these  un 
happy  times,  that  with  you  and  some  others  at 
least  of  those  I  see  about  me,  it  will  not  lack  for 
credence." 

Rivas  did  not  answer  Francisco  directly,  but 
he  turned  to  Pepe,  who  still  stood,  silent  and  sul 
len,  in  the  center  of  the  room,  and  said  with  quiet 


k'You  may  go,  Pepe.  Xo  one  will  trouble  you 
more.  '  ' 

Stolid  as  ever,  with  not  a  look  and  apparently 
not  a  thought  for  any  one  about  him,  the  Indian 
shambled  to  the  doorway  and  out  into  the  dark 
ness. 

Herrera  followed  the  stocky  figure  with  his  eyes 
until  it  had  disappeared,  then  turned  again  to 
Rivas. 


144    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

"I  have  now  but  to  thank  you,  Scilor — and  to 
bid  you  and  your  guests  farewell. ' ' 

Despite  whatever  efforts  they  may  have  made, 
there  were  those  who  heard  who  could  not  keep  a 
glitter  of  malevolent  anticipation  from  their  eyes 
at  this,  and  upon  some  at  least  of  those  about  them 
the  hint  of  evil  was  not  lost.  Yda's  fair  face, 
already  white,  grew  ashen,  and  her  eyes  turned 
appealingly  to  her  father.  But  he  had  needed  no 
warning.  His  gray  head  seemed  to  stiffen  upon 
his  shoulders,  and  his  eyes,  which  he  turned,  not 
to  him  he  addressed,  but  upon  those  others  for 
whom  it  was  evident  his  words  were  also  intended, 
shone  with  a  look  which  it  was  not  pleasant  to 
meet. 

"For  the  first  time  you  have  wronged  me,  Seiior 
Herrera, "  he  said  gravely,  "  inasmuch  as  you 
seem  to  believe  I  will  permit  guest  of  mine  to  leave 
my  house,  alone  and  unguarded,  to  meet  the 
chances  of  the  night.  Until  dawn,  even  though  you 
may  wish  it  otherwise,  I  must  constrain  }TOU,  by 
your  regard  for  your  host's  feelings,  if  no  lesser 
argument  will  serve,  to  remain  beneath  my  roof. 
Few  of  these  fair  ladies  and  gallant  caballeros 
who  have  honored  me  to-night  would  dream,  I 
hope,  of  forsaking  me  until  the  coming  of  the  day. 
Let  us  not  think,"  added  the  old  man,  less  gravely, 
"that  a  few  short  months  have  served  to  make  a 
sluggard  reveler  of  him  once  so  gay  as  the  Senor 
Herrera. ' ' 

One  brief  glance  of  smiling  mockery  Herrera 
permitted  himself  for  the  dark  faces  whose  fierce 


THE  NINE  SWOBDS  OF  MORALES    145 

eagerness  bad  not  escaped  him.  Then  once  more 
he  bent  his  handsome  head  in  acknowledgment. 

"Francisco  Herrera,  Senor,"  he  said,  "now  as 
ever  takes  and  welcomes  whatever  of  good  or  ill 
the  fates  may  send.  The  courtesy  of  so  kind  a 
host  it  were  not  less  than  sin  to  fail  to  profit  by. 
Your  guest  I  will  be  then,  and  gladly. " 

Sancho  Gonzales  started  violently  forward,  but 
his  more  self-restrained  brother  laid  a  detaining 
hand  upon  his  arm.  But  there  was  black  displea 
sure  in  the  latter 's  own  face. 

"Senor  Don  Pedro  Rivas,"  he  said,  with  cold 
formality,  "suffer  me  to  thank  you  for  the  plea 
sure  of  your  fete — and  to  bid  you  adieu.  I  grieve 
that  circumstances  should  render  it  necessary  for 
me  to  depart  thus  early. ' ' 

"I  grieve  also,  son-in-law,"  answered  the  old 
man  in  a  tone  of  unmoved  and  icy  calm,  though  his 
eyes  began  to  glow  beneath  the  shadow  of  his  dark 
brows.  "But,"  he  added,  "I  will  not  constrain 
you — and  my  servants  shall  speed  you  on  your 
way." 

"And  me  also,  Seiior,"  said  Sancho  Gonzales, 
with  scarcely  repressed  insolence. 

"  And  you  also,  Seiior,"  said  the  old  man,  with 
quiet  courtesy. 

"And  I,  likewise,  will  remain  no  longer,"  said 
Pablo  Estrada  rudely,  advancing  toward  the  lead 
ers  of  his  faction. 

"Nor  I,"  "Nor  I,"  said  Benito  Gomez  and 
Emilio  Silvela,  almost  in  a  breath,  and  these  also 
joined  the  group,  followed  an  instant  later  by  yet 
others  of  those  who,  for  one  and  another  cause. 


146    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

had  chosen  to  make  the  Gonzales  quarrel  their 
own. 

"As  yon  please,  Senors,"  said  old  Rivas,  still 
with  a  voice  that  did  not  tremble,  though  his  eye 
shot  fire  and  his  cheek  grew  ashen. 

Then  the  elder  Gonzales  spoke  again,  but  his 
eyes  sought  the  floor  as  if  he  felt  the  cruelty  and 
the  shame  of  what  he  was  saying : 

"  I  do  not  see  the  Seiiora,  my  wife.  I  must  ask 
that  you  send  her  word.  She  will,  of  course,  go 
with  me." 

Old  Rivas'  face  twitched,  and  for  an  instant  it 
seemed  that  his  iron  nerve  would  be  shaken.  Gon 
zales  had  known  where  and  how  to  strike  in  thus 
uttering  his  scarcely  concealed  warning  that  for 
his  host  to  quarrel  with  him  meant  the  estrange 
ment  of  father  and  daughter. 

"The  Seiiora,"  said  the  old  man,  hesitating 
slightly,  ' '  is  unused  to  traveling  at  night  over  the 
unkept  roads.  It  would  seem  wise  for  her  to  re 
main  in  her  father's  house  at  least  until  the  dawn 
ing.  My  servants  can  then  see  her  safely  to  her 
own  home." 

"The  Seiiora  goes  with  her  husband,"  said 
Gonzales  doggedly,  still  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  floor. 

A  murmur  came  from  among  those  not  of  the 
group  immediately  about  Gonzales,  and  above  the 
mutter  of  displeasure  an  instant  later  sounded  a 
clear,  indignant  voice : 

"Shame  for  the  mind  that  could  think  it  and 
the  lips  that  could  say  it." 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    147 

"Who  dares!"  demanded  Gonzales,  glancing 
about  him  with  furious  eyes. 

"That  do  I!"  answered  the  voice  with  prompt 
energy,  and  the  speaker  pushed  his  way  defiantly 
forward  until  he  stood  in  plain  view — a  loose- 
jointed,  athletic  young  rancher o,  with  a  bold,  rov 
ing  eye  and  a  general  air  of  reckless  swagger. 

"Senor  Carillo — Senor  Ramon  Carillo,"  said 
Gonzales,  with  a  sneering  emphasis  upon  the  ' '  Ra 
mon"  which  it  was  impossible  to  mistake.  The 
other  did  not  hesitate  to  avow  his  understanding 
of  the  intended  taunt. 

"Aye!  Ramon  Carillo — black  sheep  of  his  tribe, 
if  you  will,  Senor,  but  man  enough  to  stand  by 
host  and  friend  against  any  Gonzales  who  ever  left 
trouble  in  his  track.  I  care  nothing  for  your 
feuds;  I  ride  with  neither  of  your  factions,  but 
that  man  whose  guest  I  am  I  count  my  friend,  and 
I  say  shame  on  you  who  offer  him  this  affront." 

"And  I  also,"  "And  I,"  said  the  two  Pachecos, 
the  elder  adding:  "Our  friend  Carillo  but  took 
the  words  from  our  lips." 

"And  from  ours,"  said  the  three  Berryessas  in 
a  breath,  while  Alvarado  likewise  declared  him 
self,  adding  bluntly : 

' '  Peace  or  feud,  a  festival  hall  is  neutral  ground, 
and  I,  for  one,  would  not  question  my  host's  right 
to  make  welcome  the  Nine  Swords  themselves,  if 
he  willed,  and  every  man  of  their  following. ' ' 

"As  you  will,"  said  Gonzales  coldly,  "but  you 
who  are  of  my  thinking  go  now  from  the  house. 
I  wait  but  for  the  Senora." 

"And  what  of  the  Senora?"  asked  a  voice,  as 

31 


US    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

Pancha  Gonzales  herself  entered  from  an  inner 
room  in  time  to  hear  her  husband's  concluding 
words.  "And  why/'  she  added,  with  sharp  im- 
periousness,  "do  you  stand  divided  so — as  if  ene 
mies  about  to  fly  at  one  another's  throats?" 

"My  daughter,"  said  old  Rivas  gently,  "it  is 
only  that  your  husband  is  parting  from  me — dis 
pleased;  and  he  overrules  my  wish  that  you  at 
least  should  stay  with  us  here,  in  your  childhood's 
home,  until  the  dawning." 

Pancha 's  eyes  shone  dangerously.  Perhaps  the 
truest  sentiment  in  her  wayward  heart  was  her 
sincere  if  half  heedless  affection  for  the  father 
from  whom  she  could  never  remember,  even  from 
her  earliest  childhood,  having  heard  a  word  that 
was  not  spoken  in  kindness.  If  she  loved  Gon 
zales,  after  a  fashion,  there  was  that  in  their 
mutual  past  which  at  times  rose  up  between  them 
like  a  wall  of  distrustful  enmity.  The  pain  which 
she  detected  in  her  father's  voice,  despite  his 
efforts  to  conceal  it,  was  all  that  was  needed 
now. 

"You  may  go  if  you  will,"  she  said  coldly,  ad 
dressing  her  husband.  "I  shall  remain  with  my 
father." 

Gonzales  frowned,  and  answered  hoarsely : 

"This  cannot  be,  Senora.  Your  place  is  with 
your  husband.  You  must  return  with  me  to  the 
Casa  Gonzales." 

"I  must,  Senor!" 

"Yes,  Senora;  you  must!" 

Gonzales'  voice  was  half  choked  with  passionate 
anger,  and  his  frame  trembled  as  he  spoke.  But 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    149 

Panclia  only  smiled  faintly  and  moved  as  if  to 
stroll  heedlessly  away. 

For  one  second  a  faint  light  of  what  might 
have  been  triumph  lit  Rivas'  dark  eyes,  then  it 
passed,  and  he  lifted  his  thin  hand. 

"The  Sefiora  does  but  jest,"  he  said,  with  quiet 
gravity,  to  Gonzales.  "I  speak  truly,  do  I  not,  my 
child!"  he  added,  turning  his  grave  glance  upon 
Pancha's  beautiful  but  mutinous  face. 

For  a  moment  the  girl — she  was  little  more  in 
years — seemed  to  hesitate.  Then  she  lifted  her 
eyes  to  her  father's,  saying  gently,  almost 
humbly : 

"What  would  you  have  me  do,  mi  padre?" 

"Only  your  own  will,  querida,"  answered  her 
father,  gravely  smiling,  "and  that  will,  of  course, 
be  to  go  with  your  husband.  I  will  bid  the  ser 
vants  make  you  ready.  A  father 's  love,  my  child, 
comes  not  between  husband's  and  wife's." 

The  old  man  spoke  bravely,  but  there  were 
those  who  heard  the  pain  in  his  voice  and  read  it 
in  his  kind  eyes,  and  one  at  least  did  not  do  so 
unmoved.  Quickly  Francisco  Herrera  spoke: 

"Senor,  take  my  thanks  for  your  kindness,  and 
suffer  that  I  depart.  I  would  not  that  my  pres 
ence  should  make  strife  between  friends  or  sepa 
rate  those  bound  by  yet  dearer  ties.  My  errand 
here  is  done.  Accept  my  thanks,  and — indeed, 
Seiior,  I  must  insist  upon  it — let  me  take  the 
road." 

"With  us  to  serve  as  escort,"  spoke  a  sullen 
voice  somewhere  in  the  background,  and  a  faint 
sound  of  grim  laughter  followed. 


150    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

Again  Don  Pedro's  face  grew  stern  and  men 
acing,  but  another  anticipated  him  in  reply  to  the 
threatening  jest. 

"Say  you  so,  indeed?"  spoke  out  reckless  Ra 
mon  Carillo,  turning  to  face  the  point  from  which 
the  words  and  the  laughter  came.  ' '  Say  you  so ! 
Then  Francisco  Herrera  will  ride  not  alone  this 
night  while  I  can  sit  my  saddle. ' ' 

"Which  Ramon  Carillo  cannot  always  do — . 
after  a  feast,"  said  the  same  voice  that  had 
spoken  before. 

But  no  laughter  followed  from  those  so  grouped 
as  to  conceal  the  speaker,  for  this  time,  Carillo 's 
eyes,  already  glowing,  were  fixed  upon  them — 
and  there  was  that  in  his  look  which  seemed  to 
rob  the  jest  of  its  humor. 

"I  have  not  sat  overlong  at  the  feast  to-night, 
Senor,"  said  Carillo  calmly.  "At  all  events,  I 
think  that  he  who  cares  to  test  may  find  my  hand 
steady — and  swift." 

There  was  no  reply,  but  as  Herrera,  who  had 
affected  to  hear  nothing  of  the  side  talk  so  vitally 
concerning  him,  turned  toward  the  doorway  after 
his  farewell  bows  to  Rivas  and  the  group  of 
women,  he  saw  that  a  sullen  throng  of  his  ene 
mies  was  already  there  and  some  of  the  foremost 
in  the  very  act  of  passing  out.  And  some  one 
else  saw  also. 

"Ramon  Gonzales,"  said  old  Rivas  sternly,  too 
indignant  now  to  cloak  his  meaning  in  courteous 
phrases,  "upon  you  at  least — my  relative — my 
wishes  should  have  weight.  Remain  here  with 
your  people  this  night — or  enter  my  house  no 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    151 

more.  Though  I  lose  my  daughter,  the  man  who 
dishonors  my  hospitality  by  harm  to  my  guest 
shall  be  no  kin  of  mine. ' ' 

Gonzales  stood  irresolute.  He  had,  indeed, 
made  no  actual  move  as  yet,  but  his  brother  was 
slowly  following  the  lesser  members  of  his  faction 
toward  the  porch.  In  a  moment  the  elder  spoke: 

"Sancho,  you  have  heard — and  you  also, 
Seiiors.  Don  Pedro  Rivas'  word  is  law — and  I 
add  my  wish  to  his.  Senor  Herrera  rides  free  of 
us  to-night. " 

The  younger  Gonzales  scowled,  perhaps  at  the 
words,  perhaps  that  he  saw  at  this  same  instant 
Francisco  Herrera  bending  low  over  Donna 
Yda's  white  hand,  and  whispering  words  the  jeal 
ous  watcher  could  have  sworn  were  something 
more  than  a  farewell.  But  he  paused,  obediently 
enough — nay,  an  instant  later  even  motioned 
those  before  him  to  return,  adding  words,  too 
low,  indeed,  to  be  heard  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
apartment,  but  which  it  seemed  only  natural  to 
believe  were  a  repetition  of  his  brother's  com 
mand. 

And  while  he  so  spoke  Donna  Yda  was  replying, 
with  a  shuddering  glance  toward  the  doorway,  to 
Francisco's  farewell. 

"Adios,  Sefior — but,  oh,  I  fear,  I  fear!"  she 
murmured,  almost  under  her  breath. 

"Not  for  me,  Donna  Yda,"  he  whispered  reas 
suringly.  "Believe  me,  it  is  needless.  You  heard 
Senor  Gonzales'  words." 

"If  they  were  meant,"  murmured  Yda,  and  then 


152    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

her  eyes  suddenly  dilated  as  she  added:  "Look — 
I  was  right !  All  have  not  returned ! ' ' 

But  Francisco  still  smiled,  though  he  did  indeed 
cast  a  hasty  glance  about  him,  not  toward  the 
door,  but  to  see  if  any  nearer  at  hand  were  suffi 
ciently  so  to  overhear  his  words.  There  seemed 
to  be  none  at  the  instant,  and  he  whispered : 

"I,  too,  fear,  Senorita — but  only  this  parting. 
For  the  rest,  true  or  false  though  these  be,  I  rest 
secure.  When  did  I  lack  for  friends  in  need?" 

"The  Morales?    But  they  are  far." 

"My  messenger  is  fleet." 

"But  I  believed  you  came  alone,  and  Pepe — " 

"Pepe  is  not  my  messenger.  But,  Yda,  Yda, 
you  speak  only  of  parting.  There  is  so  much  that 
I  would  say.  Must  I  go,  and  leave  it  all  unut- 
tered?" 

Something  he  added  hastily,  and  something  she 
whispered  in  return,  hesitatingly  and  almost  be 
low  her  breath,  but  now  old  Don  Pedro  approached 
his  departing  guest  upon  one  side  while  Sancho 
Gonzales,  his  face  dark  and  lowering,  drew  nigh 
upon  the  other.  Of  the  two,  Gonzales  was  the 
nearer — so  near,  indeed,  that  those  last  few  words 
were  scarcely  uttered  when  Yda  lifted  her  eyes 
to  find  the  dark-faced  caballero  so  close  at  hand 
that  it  seemed  impossible  he  had  not  heard.  But 
he  gave  no  sign,  nor  did  he  speak  at  all,  whatever 
had  been  his  intention  in  approaching,  for  Don 
Pedro  Rivas  was  now  beside  them,  uttering  a 
final  speech  of  stately  farewell.  Francisco  an 
swered  as  courteously  as  he  might,  but  found  no 
opportunity  for  further  word  with  Yda.  But 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    153 

something  there  had  been  in  that  last  whisper  that 
sent  him  finally  striding  from  the  room  and  into 
the  dark  and  doubt  beyond  with  a  glowing  cheek 
and  a  step  that  might  have  been  a  bridegroom's. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

OF  THE  AMBUSCADE  IN   THE  WILLOWS,  AND  THE  NINE 

GOOD  REASONS  WHY  IT  DID  NOT  RESULT 

AS  WAS  ANTICIPATED 

THE  darkness  of  the  night  was  not  such  as  to 
be  unusual,  though  no  moon  shone  in  the 
sky,  but  to  one  emerging  from  the  lighted  ball 
room  of  the  casa  the  aspect  without,  for  a  moment 
at  least,  was  that  of  seemingly  impenetrable  black 
ness.  Perhaps  it  was  because  of  this  that  Fran 
cisco  Herrera's  usually  keen  eyes  did  not  note 
the  group  of  dark  shadows  which,  as  he  passed 
out  from  the  porch,  flitted  silently  back  from  the 
edge  of  the  space  affected  by  the  light  from  the 
windows  and  faded  at  once  into  the  deeper  ob 
scurity  beyond.  But  even  had  their  presence 
been  yet  more  manifest,  it  is  more  than  possible 
that  he  would  not  have  heeded,  in  that  first  mo 
ment,  so  tumultuous  and  so  joyous  were  the  emo 
tions  throbbing  in  his  heart  and  soul. 

As  Francisco  issued  from  the  porch  a  hand 
touched  his  arm  and  the  careless  voice  of  Ramon 
Carillo  spoke  at  his  side : 

"It  is  not  quite  like  old  Pedro  Rivas  to  let  a 
guest  go  thus — without  seeing  him  to  the  gates. 
But  I  can  guess  he  believed  he  served  you  better 

154 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    155 

as  it  is.  Remaining  within,  lie  may  keep  his 
eyes  upon  those  other  gentle  sharers  of  his  hos 
pitality.  I  wonder,  though,  that  he  did  not  see— 

"See  what,  Senor?" 

"That  all  of  Sancho's  cutthroats  did  not  heed 
his  command,  nor  the  words  of  Ramon  Gonzales. 
There  was  a  later  whisper — did  you  note  it?— 
from  young   Sancho.     What   it  was   I  did   not 
hear — but  some  of  the  rascals  went  on. ' ' 

"Did  they,  indeed!"  said  Francisco  curiously. 
Then  he  laughed  softly,  adding:  "I  fear  they 
may  suffer  a  shock." 

"You  speak  confidently,  Senor,"  said  Carillo, 
striving  to  peer  into  his  companion's  face  in  the 
dim  light  of  the  night. 

"Not  more  so  than  I  feel,  Don  Ramon,"  an 
swered  Herrera.  "But  you,  Senor,"  he  added — 
"will  you  not  let  me  thank  you  for  your  gallant 
courtesy,  and  urge  you  to  return?  It  is  ill  drag 
ging  others  into  one's  own  quarrels — and  I  give 
you  my  word  I  am  in  no  peril." 

"Why,  then  I,  your  comrade,  cannot  be  so 
either,"  laughed  his  companion,  "so  I  will  even 
inflict  my  graceless  company  upon  you  yet  a  while 
longer.  In  all  seriousness,  Senor,  I  do  not  doubt 
that  you  think  you  are  safe — you  have  said  it, 
and  I  do  not  care  to  question  the  word  of  any 
caballero  whose  temper  is  known  to  be  as  active 
as  Francisco  Herrera 's — but  I  think  you  are  in 
error.  And  an  error  in  a  matter  like  this,  Senor, 
might  suddenly  let  another  very  lively  ghost  loose 
on  these  lonesome  plains — and  there  are  enough 
of  them  here  now,"  he  added,  with  a  queer  change 


156    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

to  sudden  gravity,  crossing  himself  without  a 
suspicion  of  mockery,  as  he  stopped  to  gaze  suspi 
ciously  at  a  dim  figure  before  them  of  which  he 
had  become  that  instant  aware.  Francisco  smiled 
in  the  concealment  of  the  night  at  this  odd  con 
firmation  of  stories  which  he  remembered  of  how 
the  man  at  his  side,  recklessly  brave  in  confront 
ing  every  known  and  understood  danger,  was  al 
most  a  child  in  his  superstitious  dread  of  the  fan 
cied  terrors  of  the  dark.  But  even  as  the  thought 
passed  through  his  mind  his  companion  spoke 
again,  and  in  a  tone  of  relieved  assurance: 

' '  It  is  only  Pepe  with  my  horse.  But  I  do  not 
see  yours,  Seiior." 

"Mine  is  gone,"  said  Herrera  briefly. 

Carillo  stopped  short.  "Broken  away!"  he 
said.  "But  this  must  not  be.  Rivas  must  be 
told.  He  will  never  suffer  guest  of  his,  foe  or 
friend,  to  depart  on  foot." 

"That  I  know  well,"  said  Herrera;  "therefore 
he  must  not  know.  How  could  I,  kind  as  he  has 
been  to  me  this  night,  accept  such  favor  from 
him?" 

"Caramba!  I  care  not  for  these  fine-drawn 
whims,"  growled  Carillo.  "But  since  this  is  so, 
it  only  remains  that  you  shall  take  my  horse,  and 
I  will  walk  beside  you.  Afoot  or  in  the  saddle,  I 
shall  see  you  safely  on  your  way. ' ' 

Herrera  pressed  his  companion's  arm. 

"You  are  a  friend  worthy  the  name,  Don  Ra 
mon,"  he  said.  "But  I  will  not  take  your  horse. 
Mount — my  limbs  and  frame  are  lighter  than 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    157 

yours,  Senor,  and  it  is  I  that  will  walk— since  you 
will  go  on. ' ' 

Carillo  muttered  discontentedly,  but,  realizing 
that  argument  was  useless,  climbed  carelessly  into 
the  saddle.  Francisco  turned  to  the  Indian. 

"Pepe,  you  cannot  stay  here  longer,"  he  said. 

Pepe  shook  his  head. 

"No.  Gonzales  come — stay  many  days — and 
Gonzales  no  friend  now." 

"I  know,"  said  Francisco.  "Then  come  to  my 
home,  Pepe,  and  none  shall  harm  you. ' ' 

But  Pepe  once  more  shook  his  head. 

' '  No  turn  against  Senor  Rivas, ' '  he  said.  ' '  But 
I  go— far." 

"Adios,  then,  Pepe." 

"Adios,  Senor." 

Carillo  urged  his  horse  forward,  and  Francisco 
walked  briskly  beside  him. 

"Hold  by  my  stirrup,  Senor,"  said  the  rider 
in  an  undertone.  "You  will  walk  the  easier — 
and  will  be  ready  then  to  spring  up  behind  me," 
he  added. 

"Should  there  be  need,"  said  Francisco,  half 
laughing.  "I  see,  Senor,  that  you  still  persist  I 
may  meet  bad  company." 

' i  The  strait-laced  thieves  who  are  more  careful 
of  their  drinking  than  I  would  say  you  are  in  it 
now,"  grimly  answered  the  horseman.  "But  you 
may  meet  worse — or  I  watched  that  tricky  Sancho 
to  no  purpose." 

"His  waylayers  would  scarcely  dare  attack  me 
before  Don  Pedro's  door,"  said  Francisco,  "nor 


158    THE  NINE  SWOKDS  OF  MORALES 

would  they  care  to  follow  me  far  toward  my  own 
people." 

"Perhaps  not.  But  in  cutthroatism  as  in  honest 
ways  of  life  there  is  a  happy  medium.  For  exam 
ple,  "  continued  Carillo  grimly,  "what  spot  for 
our  friends  better  than  this  we  now  approach — 
just  too  distant  from  the  house  for  alarm  to  be 
given  there,  yet  miles  away  from  the  Morales 
bounds — and  willows  on  both  sides  for  ambus 
cade!  What  better  place!" 

"Aye!  what  better!"  echoed  a  voice,  and  figure 
after  figure  sprang  from  the  shadows  into  the 
pathway  before  them. 

"Up,  up! — behind  the  saddle,  Senor!"  whis 
pered  Carillo.  "They  are  afoot.  We  can  leave 
the  bandit  gang  in  a  moment.  Up ! ' ' 

But  Francisco  calmly  stepped  a  pace  or  two 
away  and  drew  himself  stiffly  erect. 

' '  No,  I  will  not  flee, ' '  he  said.  * '  These  men  will 
not  harm  me.  They  dare  not — ladrones ! "  he 
added  scornfully. 

One  of  those  who  fronted  him  sprang  forward 
at  the  insulting  word,  something  flashing  in  his 
hand. 

"Dare  not!"  he  echoed  savagely.  "Dare  not! 
And  why ! ' ' 

Herrera  stepped  back,  just  beyond  the  furious 
man's  reach,  but,  whatever  may  have  been  his  first 
intention,  voice  and  action  were  suddenly  ar 
rested,  for  an  instant  at  least,  by  a  new  sound  near 
at  hand.  Francisco  glanced  aside,  then  suddenly 
laughed  aloud. 

"Why!"  he  said,  echoing  the  waylayer's  last 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    159 

word;  "why?  For  several  reasons — nine,  I  think 
you  will  find  in  all,  if  you  can  count  in  the  dark. " 

And  nine  tall  figures,  gigantic  in  the  obscurity 
of  the  night,  moved  swiftly  out  from  the  second 
cops^of^illows  with  a  sound  of  clanking  arms. 

"Well  met  at  last,  Francisco,"  said  the  giant 
who  strode  first,  sneaking  in  deep,  quiet  tones,  his 
manner  seeming  to  indicate  that  the  entire  inci 
dent  was  one  of  theXmost  ordinary  and  casual 
character.  "Your  hor^e  is  here  in  the  willows — 
with  our  own.  We  caught  him  a  while  back,  and  a 
few  moments  more  would  have  seen  us  at  the  casa. 
We  guessed  he  came  as  a  messenger." 

"You  were  right,  as  always,  Don  Carlos,"  said 
Francisco.  "Know  in  this  caballero  a  good 
friend,  Seiior  Ramon  Carillo,  who  I  hope  will  ride 
with  us  homeward  to-night. ' ' 

t  i  Why,  yes, ' '  laughed  Carillo  recklessly ; 1 1  broth 
er-in-law  of  the  Commandant  though  I  be,  it  seems 
as  if  it  were  wise  for  me  to  become  a  Morales 
man  now — or  risk  a  broken  neck.  A  Gonzales 
lariat,  I  dare  swear,  will  fly  more  swiftly  against 
a  single  foe  than  one  of  many.  It  is  a  fair  ex 
cuse — and  I  am  sick  of  resting  and  rusting  at 
home  while  others  are  finding  such  good  sport 
abroad.  You  hear,  Senors.  Return  to  the  greater 
rogue  that  sent  you,  and  tell  him  for  me  that 
Ramon  Carillo  rides  no  more,  eats  no  more,  drinks 
no  more,  with  any  Gonzales.  And  if  he  or  his  dare 
raid  my  lands  or  my  brethren's  for  this,  let  him 
remember  that  Ramon  Carillo — Black  Sheep  Ra 
mon — fears  no  devil  that  he  sees,  and  goes  far  on 
any  road  he  travels." 


160    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

There  was  no  reply  in  words,  but  the  men  ad 
dressed  moved  swiftly  away  in  the  darkness,  van 
ishing  in  the  direction  of  the  casa. 

"There  is  one  thing,  Francisco,"  said  Carlos, 
as  the  cavalcade  of  friends  moved  northward,  "I 
confess  I  do  not  understand.  If  I  heard  aright 
your  words  to  yonder  rascals,  you  spoke  almost 
as  if  you  had  expected  us  here." 

"I  did,  Sefior,"  said  Francisco  promptly. 

"We  had  not  said  we  were  coming." 

Francisco  laughed  softly. 

"No,  Don  Carlos,  but  I  knew  the  word  I  had  left 
must  reach  you — and  I  knew  the  Morales." 

Diego,  who  had  overheard,  chuckled.  Carlos 
said  nothing,  but  it  seemed  to  those  whose  eyes 
chanced  to  be  turned  upon  him  that  he  drew  him 
self  more  uprightly  in  the  saddle,  with  yet  a 
more  stately  air  than  that  which  always  so  be 
came  him. 

Then  Francisco  spoke  again,  with  a  voice  full 
of  grave  feeling:  "Sefiors,  you  have  done  me 
brave  service  to-night,  for  which  I  will  ever  re 
main  your  debtor.  But  now  I  must  ask  of  you 
one  favor  more." 

"You  have  but  to  name  it,  Seiior,"  began  Car 
los  courteously,  but  Carillo  suddenly  interrupted: 

"Nay,  Don  Carlos,  promise  not  so  rashly.  Be 
assured  the  reckless  rascal  means  to  put  his  head 
again  into  the  trap." 

"No,  Don  Ramon,"  said  Francisco,  gravely 
smiling.  "With  you  and  our  brave  friends  here 
known  to  be  at  hand,  I  might  go  to  the  casa  itself 
in  safety — and  that  I  have  no  thought  of  doing. 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    161 

But  I  am  not  free  to  depart  as  yet,"  added  Fran 
cisco,  a  little  hesitatingly,  though  the  darkness 
hid  the  flush  that  arose  in  his  cheeks. 

"We  will,  of  course,  await  your  leisure,"  said 
Carlos,  "and  attend  you  wherever  you  will  to  go. 
You  have  but  to  lead  on." 

"That  is  like  your  kindness,  Senor,"  said  Fran 
cisco,  "but  it  is  not  all  I  must  ask  of  you.  Would 
you  not — I  do  not  need  a  guard  for  the  errand  I 
have  yet  to  do — would  you— 
The  sometime  reckless  raider  came  to  an  abrupt 
stop,  and  only  the  darkness  hid  his  confusion. 

It  was  Carillo  who,  in  his  own  whimsical  way, 
relieved  his  embarrassment — in  a  measure  at 
least. 

"Oh,  these  girls!"  he  groaned  dismally. 

Diego  laughed  aloud,  but  Carlos  spoke  at  once 
without  a  shadow  of  amusement  in  his  gravely 
courteous  tone. 

"We  will  prepare  for  our  return,  Seiior,"  he 
said  calmly,  "and  when  you  are  ready  you  will 
find  us  but  a  stone's  throw  from  this  spot.  Shall 
we  not  go,  Seiior?"  he  concluded,  addressing  Ca 
rillo. 

"Under  your  favor,  Don  Carlos,"  replied  that 
caballero  politely,  but  with  a  hint  of  stubborn 
ness  in  his  tone,  * '  I  have  just  a  word  yet  to  say  to 
this  young  madcap. ' ' 

"Join  us  when  you  will,"  said  Carlos  quietly, 
and  then  the  nine  brothers,  all  of  them  already 
mounted,  moved  slowly  away  in  the  darkness. 

"Now  that  is  well  done,  and  gentlemanly — and 
there  are  no  braver  men,"  said  Carillo,  adding 


162    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

irascibly:  "But  I — I  have  said  I  would  see  you 
safe  to-night,  and  so  I  stick  to  your  traces,  Don 
Keeper-of-Trysts,  whether  you  like  it  or  not,  until 
I  see  that  foolish  head  of  yours  once  again  out  of 
peril/' 

Francisco  made  no  reply,  but  gazed  fixedly  into 
the  darkness  to  the  right  as  they  stood  in  the 
path. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Carillo,  his  gaze  follow 
ing  Francisco's,  and  a  queer  quaver  sounding  in 
his  voice. 

For  a  moment  Francisco  did  not  reply,  but 
pointed  silently. 

"What  was  it  that  passed  then,  Don  Ramon?" 
he  muttered  at  last.  "And  there — there!  see, 
again ! ' ' 

Poor  Don  Ramon's  hair  bristled.  "Where?" 
he  whispered  hoarsely,  striving  to  see,  yet  dread 
ing  that  he  might  succeed. 

"There!"  said  Francisco  again,  directing  his 
companion's  fascinated  eyes  to  a  point  a  little 
to  their  rear. 

"Said  I  not  the  plain  was  full  of  ghosts?"  mut 
tered  Carillo,  his  tone  filled  with  awe,  while  the 
bridle-rein  by  which  he  held  his  horse  trembled 
in  his  hand.  Then,  a  moment  later,  his  strained 
attention  relaxed  sufficiently  for  him  to  note  an 
other  sound — and  he  found  that  he  stood  alone, 
while  from  the  invisible  distance  came  the  soft 
patter  of  hoofs  falling  so  swiftly  that  he  knew 
pursuit  would  be  useless. 

"To  leave  me  alone  in  the  dark!"  grumbled 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    163 

Don  Ramon,  half  laughing,  half  rueful.  "Was 
ever  such  ingratitude  ? M 

But  the  Morales  were  within  easy  reach — and 
loneliness  and  darkness  had  no  charms  for  Ramon 
Carillo.  A  moment  later  he  rode  into  the  group 
of  brothers,  where  they  stood  or  sat  on  the  bank 
of  a  shallow  arroyo,  their  horses  already  picketed. 

"I  wished  but  to  give  the  Seiior  Herrera  a  last 
word  of  warning, ' '  he  explained  as  he  dismounted. 

Carlos  smiled  faintly  in  the  shadow  of  his 
drooping  hat-brim,  but  half  a  mile  eastward,  Fran 
cisco,  circling  swiftly  to  a  position  abreast  of  the 
Casa  Rivas,  was  still  laughing  as  he  rode. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

TELLING    OF    THE    SECOND    NIGHT-KIDE    OF    FRANCISCO 

HEKRERA  IN   HOSTILE  TERRITORY,  AND 

HOW    IT    ENDED 

IN  THOSE  old  days  it  was  not  as  now  upon 
the  Santa  Rosa  Plains.  The  wide  stretch  of 
floor-like  level,  the  gentle  undulations  between, 
these,  of  course,  have  known  little'  or  nothing  of 
change.  Likewise  still  remain,  here  and  there,  the 
great  white  oaks,  stately  even  in  their  gnarled  un- 
loveliness,  which  of  old  furnished  almost  the  only 
break,  aside  from  the  watercourse  fringes,  on  a 
surface  well  nigh  guiltless  of  underwood.  But 
from  end  to  end  of  the  broad  expanse  in  that  day 
there  was  not  so  much  as  a  rail  of  fencing  save 
such  as  served  for  corral  barriers  about  the 
widely  separated  rancho  homes.  By  day  the  plain 
was  vacant  or  given  over  in  places  to  cattle  and 
their  herders ;  at  night  it  had  other  denizens.  Then 
the  elk  and  the  deer,  more  cautious  while  daylight 
lasted,  swarmed  down  from  the  hills  to  the  east 
and  west  to  feast  on  the  richer  forage  of  the  plain. 
On  their  trail  at  times  crept  the  panther,  not  often, 
fortunately  for  them,  moved  to  deliberate  and 
continued  pursuit  of  his  quarry.  His  steps  were 
noiseless,  as,  indeed,  we^e  those  of  the  prey  he 

1G4 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    165 

sought,  and  the  coats  of  all  alike  were  gray. 
Ramon  Carillo,  superstitious  as  he  was  physically 
brave,  was  not  alone  in  declaring  that  the  plain 
at  night  was  filled  with  ghosts,  so  frequent  and 
so  weird  were  the  flitting  shapes  that  beset  the 
path. 

Francisco  Herrera,  riding  swiftly  southward  in 
the  warm  night,  noted  from  time  to  time  the  pass 
age  of  noiseless  shadows  of  gray,  but  with  no 
thought  of  uneasiness.  And  the  good  horse  he 
rode  had  been  his  companion  too  often  on  lonely 
night-rides  such  as  this  not  to  have  learned  to 
accept  with  calm  indifference  all  the  natural  ap 
pearances  of  the  night.  But,  as  they  sped  swiftly 
on  in  the  half-darkness,  there  came  at  last  a  mo 
ment  when  Francisco  felt  Muchacho  pause  in  his 
steady  stride  and  quiver  beneath  his  knees.  A 
sudden  hoisting  of  the  animal's  graceful  head  and 
a  pricking  forward  of  the  small  ears  gave  further 
testimony  to  the  steed's  alarm.  Dare-devil  as 
Francisco  was  ever  and  always,  he  knew  his  horse 
and  he  knew  the  times,  so,  even  as  he  drew  rein 
and  cast  his  eye  keenly  about  him,  his  hand  closed 
upon  the  butt  of  one  of  the  long-barrelled  Span 
ish  pistols  hanging  in  his  holsters. 

" Quiet,  Muchacho,  quiet  now,"  he  murmured 
in  soothing  Spanish  to  the  still  fretting  horse. 
"There  is  nothing  to  harm  us  here.  If  there  is, 
we  have  heels  and  hands,  you  and  I,  Muchacho, 
and  if  I  use  the  one  as  well  as  you  do  the  other  we 
should  be  safe  enough." 

Francisco  laughed  softly  as  he  spoke,  boyishly 
pleased  with  his  own  thought  and  speech,  the 


166    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

while  he  rubbed  his  heavy  spurs  gently  against 
Muchacho's  sides  and  sought  to  urge  him  once 
more  upon  his  way.  The  horse  went  forward 
again  readily  enough,  but  still  held  his  head  high 
and  seemed  not  at  all  satisfied  with  the  clumps  of 
sparse  shrubbery  which  at  this  particular  point 
dotted  here  and  there  the  surface  of  the  plain. 

"Now,  Muchacho!  On,  mi  hombre!"  said 
Francisco,  again  speaking  aloud,  and  purposely 
so,  knowing  how  much  the  sound  of  his  voice  had 
always  meant  to  the  animal  he  rode.  t  i  So,  there 
—faster!  Bueno!" 

Another  light  touch  of  the  spur,  and  the  good 
horse  bounded  obediently  forward,  steed  and 
rider  in  a  moment  passing  beyond  view  in  the 
darkness  for  any  who  might  remain  behind. 

Then,  from  the  dusky  shadow  of  a  cluster  of 
white  oak  shrubbery  not  three  rods  away  from 
where  Francisco  had  made  his  momentary  halt, 
silently  rode  two  other  horsemen,  and  without  a 
word  quietly  followed  in  his  track. 

Only  at  intervals,  as  he  passed  the  crest  of  a 
knoll,  could  Francisco's  figure  be  seen,  dimly  out 
lined  against  the  sky,  but  those  who  came  after 
needed  nothing  more.  They  rode  swiftly  but  with 
extreme  caution,  never  suffering  their  horses' 
hoofs  to  sound  on  beaten  trails,  cattle-paths  or 
otherwise,  and  seeking,  so  far  as  possible,  to  keep 
always  at  least  one  protecting  ridge  between 
themselves  and  the  apparent  object  of  their  pur 
suit.  Nor  were  they  heedless  in  other  ways,  for 
when  at  last  they  spoke  it  was  in  whispers : 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    167 

'  *  It  would  seem  you  were  right — but  hush !  he  is 
stopping. ' ' 

"On  the  ridge — yes." 

"The  casa  may  be  seen  from  there?" 

"Yes." 

"Look!  he  has  dismounted." 

"Then  let  us  do  likewise.  Lead  the  horses  for 
ward — gently. ' ' 

And  while  the  two  watchers  moved  cautiously 
on,  Francisco  Herrera,  all  unsuspicious  of  their 
presence,  proceeded  to  do  a  strange  thing. 

He  took  from  his  head  his  broad-brimmed  hat  of 
felt  and  placed  it  upon  the  ground,  slightly  dented 
the  tall  crown  and  into  the  hollow  poured  a  small 
portion  of  powder.  Next  Muchacho  was  urged  as 
far  from  the  spot  as  the  length  of  a  lariat  would 
permit.  Then,  turning  his  face  partly  away  and 
extending  his  arms,  Francisco  coolly  struck  flint 
and  steel  above  the  powder. 

The  first  spark  was  successful.  There  was  a 
sudden,  noiseless,  almost  blinding  flash,  followed 
instantly  by  darkness  for  a  few  seconds  seemingly 
blacker  than  before. 

Muchacho  leaped  back,,  startled,  but  Francisco, 
picking  up  his  scorched  hat,  hastily  gathered  in 
the  lariat  and  sprang  into  the  saddle. 

"Quiet,  amigo!  Quiet,  Muchacho,  and  I  will 
tell  you  a  secret,"  murmured  the  boy  gaily,  gently 
caressing  the  fretting  animal's  neck,  and  unable 
to  resist  making  this  trusty  four-footed  friend  his 
confidant.  "Now  we  are  going  to  keep  our  tryst 
on  the  other  side — and  let  those  who  mav  have 


168    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

seen  our  signal  look  for  us  here !  On,  Muchacho ! 
Swiftly,  now!" 

The  good  horse  leaped  forward,  but  from  some 
where  in  the  darkness  suddenly  darted  a  dim  fig 
ure,  and  the  whirring  sound  which  fell  upon  Fran 
cisco  's  ear  told  him  instantly  what  was  coming. 
Like  lightning  he  drew  the  long  Spanish  knife 
from  his  sheath,  but  even  in  that  second  the  noose 
of  the  lariat  fell  about  his  body  and  drew  instantly 
tight.  The  blade  with  which  he  had  hoped  to  cut 
it  was  driven  against  his  left  hand,  gashing  it 
badly.  The  blood  spurted,  and  an  instant  later 
a  tremendous  wrench  hurled  him  headlong  from 
his  plunging  horse,  while  Muchacho,  with  a  fright 
ened  snort,  plunged  madly  on  and  vanished  in  the 
darkness. 

Francisco  fell  heavily  upon  his  head  and 
shoulders — and  he  made  no  movement  to  rise 
again. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

TWO    WAYLAYERS    OF    THE    DARK,    AND    WHAT    IT    WAS 
THAT    DISTURBED    THEM    AT    THEIR    WORK 

WITHIN  the  broken  banks  of  the  arroyo  skirt 
ing  the  rear  of  the  few  acres  which  in  more 
modern  days  would  have  constituted  the  grounds 
of  Don  Pedro  Kivas'  home  the  willows  grew 
thickly.  Here  and  there,  however,  the  grove  was 
broken  by  paths  and  arbors,  the  latter  much  as 
nature  made  them,  though  girlish  hands  had 
added  something  of  convenience  to  their  inte 
riors  and  approaches,  the  rather  for  the  pleasure 
of  the  work,  perhaps,  than  any  definite  purpose 
of  accomplishment.  Perhaps  it  were  nearer  the 
truth  to  say  that  girlish  minds  had  planned  the 
work,  since  for  the  execution  there  had  ever  been 
gallant  boyish  aid  or  older,  yet  still  youthful,  as 
sistance  at  the  command  of  the  fair  maids  of  the 
hacienda.  In  the  old  days  none  had  been  more 
gaily  active  in  this  labor  of  love — literally  such, 
though  perhaps  not  then  so  known — than  that 
bright  youth  of  ever  overflowing  spirit,  Francisco 
Herrera.  The  chief  of  the  willow  arbors  was,  in 
deed,  so  far  as  artificial  framing  went,  almost  en 
tirely  the  work  of  his  vigorous  hands — hands  that 
could  never  fail  in  any  endeavor  while  Yda's  eyes 


170    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

looked  on.  "Yda's  Bower "  he  had  named  it  in 
the  gay  gallantry  of  his  boyish  devotion,  and 
"Yda's  Bower"  from  that  day  on  the  shaded  re 
treat  remained  with  all  the  dwellers  of  the  casa. 

To  Yda's  Bower,  on  that  still  night,  answering 
Francisco's  whispered  plea,  had  stolen  Yda  her 
self — furtively,  hesitatingly,  yet  with  no  shame 
in  thus  according  the  chivalrous  friend  of  her 
childhood  the  favor  he  had  sued  for — but  one 
moment  for  the  words  and  the  planning  that 
should  make  clear  the  future  for  them  both  that 
must  mean,  she  could  not  but  hope,  though  as  yet 
she  saw  not  the  way,  the  end  of  the  cruel  quarrel 
that  had  so  long  and  fiercely  divided  friend  from 
friend.  From  Yda's  Bower,  blushing  and  smiling 
at  the  memory  of  childhood  romance  that  the 
boyish  act  recalled,  she  had  seen  Francisco's  sig 
nal.  In  that  same  leafy  seclusion  waited  Yda 
thereafter,  half  shy,  half  eager — while  Francisco 
lay  like  one  dead  upon  the  plain. 

The  dim  figure  of  a  man  darted  forward  to 
where  the  silent  youth  lay,  and  after  came  the 
second  of  the  waylayers,  leading  the  two  saddled 
horses. 

"And  what  now?"  he  queried  as  he  reached 
the  spot  where  his  comrade  bent  over  the  motion 
less  victim. 

The  other  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  still  knelt 
with  his  head  bent  upon  Francisco's  breast.  Sud 
denly  he  arose,  speaking  hastily  and  as  if  the  ques 
tion  had  just  reached  him. 

"Nothing,  except  that  we  will  force  no  secrets 
from  this  cabal lero;  and  we  have  urgent  reason 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    171 

to  hurry  hence  before  any  chance  shall  connect 
us  with  this." 

There  was  no  regret,  only  a  slight  tinge  of  anx 
iety  in  his  tone,  and  as  he  said  the  word  "this" 
he  carelessly  touched  the  still  form  before  him 
with  his  foot,  by  way  of  indicating  his  meaning. 

His  companion  seemed  a  little  startled,  and 
there  was  even  something  of  incredulous  horror 
in  his  voice  as  he  spoke  again: 

"Connect  us  with  this?    You  cannot  mean — " 

"I  mean  that  the  fall  has  broken  his  neck.  Cer 
tainly,  it  has  killed  him. ' ' 

"Dios!"  said  the  other  in  a  voice  of  conster 
nation. 

"Fie,  what  of  that?"  rejoined  his  comrade  pet 
ulantly.  "It  was  an  accident.  How  were  we  to 
know  that  a  little  fall  like  that  should  kill  the 
best  rider  in  Sonoma  ?  We  are  not  to  blame — but 
it  will  be  as  well  if  we  never  have  to  make  these 
explanations  to  the  Herreras  or  De  Guerra,  or — 
worst  of  all — to  the  mad  Morales.  Let  us  mount 
and  ride. ' ' 

"We  cannot  go  too  soon  for  me.  This  has  been 
a  bad  night's  work." 

"Perhaps,  but—" 

"Hush,  hush!"  interrupted  his  comrade  in  an 
excited  whisper. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Listen!" 

The  other  checked  a  half-uttered  oath  of  im 
patience  to  obey.  In  the  breathless  moment  that 
followed  both  heard,  coming  out  of  the  darkness 
to  the  west  a  low,  deep  murmur  as  of  the  blending 


172    THE  NINE  SW01IDS  OF  MORALES 

of  hoofs  and  voices  innumerable,  while  amid  it  all 
sounded  also,  at  intervals,  a  low-toned  guttural 
chant  of  almost  indescribable  weirdness. 

One  of  the  listeners  leaped  suddenly  upon  his 
horse. 

" Mount — mount!"  he  whispered  to  his  com 
rade.    '  *  We  have  not  a  moment ! " 
' '  But  who  is  it !    Not  the  Morales  ? ' ' 
6 '  The  Morales— no  !    Worse !    Sonoma ! ' ' 
"Sonoma?    And  he—" 

"Is  blood-brother  to  that  man  lying  there!" 
"Jesu!    You  have  said  enough.    Let  us  ride!" 
Side  by  side  the  two  horsemen  shot  away  to  the 
southeastward,  the  soft  pounding  of  hoofs  upon 
the  turf  doing  little  to  indicate  the  direction  of 
their  flight,  even  had  that  now  strongly  increasing 
murmur  of  strangely  blended  sounds  not  rendered 
hearing  entirely  impossible. 

And  the  murmur  grew  every  moment  louder 
and  deeper,  and  soon,  had  the  man  lying  there  so 
silently  had  eyes  to  see,  he  might  have  noted  a 
dark  mass  moving  steadily  and  with  moderate 
swiftness  across  the  dusk-clad  plain  toward  the 
spot  where  he  lay.  As  it  drew  nearer  the  mass 
resolved  itself  into  a  throng  of  horsemen,  ten 
score  or  more,  riding  in  no  order,  but  pressing 
forward  in  one  general  cavalcade,  above  which, 
here  and  there,  a  faint  gleam  suggested  the  pres 
ence  of  a  spear.  At  the  head  rode  a  man  slightly 
in  advance  of  his  fellows,  and  silent,  though  almost 
all  of  those  who  followed  seemed  to  be  beguiling 
their  way  with  the  strange  guttural  chant  which 
apparently  knew  neither  beginning  nor  ending. 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    173 

And  it  so  happened  that  the  course  of  the  silent 
horseman  in  the  van  led  him  so  directly  to  the  spot 
where  Herrera  lay  that,  had  the  eyes  of  rider  and 
horse  seen  less  clearly  in  the  darkness,  the  hoofs 
of  the  latter  might  have  been  planted  upon  the 
body. 

But  in  good  time  the  horseman  saw,  drew  rein, 
and,  without  turning  in  his  saddle,  uttered  a  sin 
gle  shrill  cry.  At  once  the  dark  mass  behind  him 
halted,  all  save  one  man,  who,  at  a  further  brief 
word  from  him  who  led,  rode  nearer,  dismounted, 
and  struck  flint  and  steel  over  the  face  of  the  mo 
tionless  form  before  them.  It  was  but  a  flickering 
flash  that  followed,  but  what  he  saw  was  enough 
to  cause  the  kneeling  man  to  raise  his  head  sud 
denly  and  utter  a  few  quick  words,  which,  despite 
their  guttural  syllables,  seemed  full  of  emphasis. 

At  once  the  leader  swung  himself  from  the  sad 
dle  to  the  ground,  and  now  some  one  brought  from 
the  throng  behind  a  newly  ignited  torch.  Its  light 
shone  alike  upon  the  white,  upturned  countenance 
of  Francisco  Herrera  and  on  the  swarthy,  strong- 
featured,  black-bearded  face  of  that  strange  man, 
white  or  Indian,  Vallejo's  friend  and  confidant, 
Sonoma,  " Chief  of  the  Three  Valleys." 

His  Indian  nature  or  training  was  strong 
enough  to  cause  him  to  gaze  utterly  unmoved 
upon  the  white  face  before  him,  whatever  his  emo 
tions  might  be,  but  when  he  noted  the  lariat  still 
coiled  about  the  body,  the  look  that  came  into  his 
eyes  was  not  good  to  see.  But  he  said  no  word, 
only  knelt  and  bent  his  head  low  to  listen  at  the 


174    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

silent  man's  breast  for  an  instant — and  what  he 
so  learned  seemed  to  satisfy  him. 

He  rose  at  once  and  spoke  to  those  about  him  in 
the  Indian  tongue,  giving  his  commands  with  the 
calm  assurance  of  one  who  knew  that  he  had  but  to 
speak  to  be  obeyed.  With  no  word  of  wonder 
ment  or  question,  four  men  spread  a  blanket  on 
the  ground,  placed  the  body  upon  it,  and  then 
lifted  the  simply-improvised  palanquin  by  the  four 
corners.  As  many  horsemen,  assuming  at  once 
the  proper  positions,  deftly  relieved  them  of  their 
charge.  Then  the  Chief  sprang  into  his  saddle — 
the  only  such  article  of  horse-gear  probably  in  the 
whole  of  that  wild  band — his  followers  also 
mounted,  and  once  again  the  dark  mass  moved 
forward  across  the  night-darkened  plain. 

And  as  they  rode  Sonoma 's  eyes  turned  often 
to  the  dark  burden  which  his  followers  bore,  and 
the  fury  that  filled  his  heart  was  the  deeper  and 
the  blacker  that  he  sternly  denied  it  expression  in 
words.  "Blood-brother"  meant  much  in  the  old 
days  with  Sonoma  and  his  tribesmen.  No  mere 
formal  rite  of  adoption  served  to  establish  this 
kinship  of  plain  and  mountain,  but  when  two  men, 
though  of  different  races,  chanced  to  fight  in  the 
same  quarrel,  side  by  side,  and  together  to  suffer, 
if  their  mutual  liking  was  sufficiently  strong,  the 
wound  upon  one  warrior's  limb  or  body  might  be 
pressed  upon  that  of  the  other  until  their  blood  co- 
mingled.  Thereafter  they  were  "blood-broth 
ers,"  sworn  to  fight  each  other's  battles,  to  bear 
each  other's  burdens,  to  avenge  each  other's 
wrongs,  and  the  kinship  and  the  obligation 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    175 

descended  from  father  to  son  in  both  lines  from 
generation  to  generation.  In  some  old  day  of 
which  only  Sonoma  seemed  to  hold  the  memory, 
the  barbarous  but  binding  rite  had  been  sol 
emnized  between  himself  and  Francisco's  father. 
The  elder  Herrera  had  long  been  dead.  His  son 
lay  there  in  the  improvised  hammock,  to  all  out 
ward  appearance  dead  also.  That  son  was  Sono 
ma  's  blood-brother.  The  thoughts  in  the  Chief's 
mind  as  he  rode  onward,  could  they  have  been 
read,  would  have  shown  that  he  had  not  forgotten. 

But  almost  until  dawn,  in  the  willow- grove  be 
hind  the  Casa  Rivas,  sat  a  white-faced  girl,  ever 
paler  as  the  lonely  hours  dragged  by  and  the  fear 
in  her  heart  grew  colder  and  colder,  waiting  for  a 
step  and  a  voice  and  the  touch  of  fond  hands  that 
were  not. 

And  the  Morales,  too,  waited  hour  by  hour — 
in  vain;  then  ranged  the  wide  sweep  of  plain, 
north  and  south,  east  and  west,  till  the  day  broke 
over  the  Santa  Rosa  Hills,  and  no  sight  of  him 
they  sought  rewarded  them.  To  the  Casa  Rivas 
they  did  not  go.  " There  could  be  no  treachery," 
said  Carlos,  "with  old  Don  Pedro's  knowledge, 
and  we  may  spare  him  the  insult  of  the  question. ' ' 
But  when  they  rode  home  at  last  it  was  to  find  at 
their  own  door,  still  saddled  and  bridled,  the  horse 
of  Francisco  Herrera,  with  blood  on  his  mane. 
But  of  the  rider  was  no  other  sign  than  that. 

And  there  was  no  longer  talk  of  a  wedding. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

HOW  THE  GONZALES  HEARNED  THAT  FRANCISCO 

HERRERA'S   FRIENDS   COULD  DO   MORE 

THAN  MOURN 

AND  the  news  went  abroad,  from  rancho  to 
rancho,  through  the  valleys,  shocking  and 
maddening  Herrera's  friends  with  grief  and  fury 
— fury  the  greater,  perhaps,  that  there  seemed  no 
means  of  bringing  the  guilt  of  his  loss  home  to  the 
doors  at  which  all  who  loved  him  were  assured  it 
lay.  And  as  days  passed,  and  no  word  came  from 
the  absent,  the  feud  waxed  ever  fiercer  and  yet 
more  fierce,  until  no  Gonzales  or  Rivas,  or  servant 
of  any  bearer  of  those  names,  dared  ride  abroad 
without  armed  and  numerous  escort,  lest  those 
fierce  brothers  of  a  race  famed  north  and  south 
for  reckless  prowess  and  unexampled  horseman 
ship  should  suddenly  bear  him  down  and  execute 
upon  him  some  part  at  least  of  that  debt  of  ven 
geance  which  these  and  every  other  friend  of  the 
lost  Herrera  seemed  so  sternly  eager  to  pay. 
Not  long  did  the  chief  of  the  Gonzales  faction 
wait  for  earnest  of  his  enemies'  suspicions  and 
purposes.  His  dwelling  was  almost  a  fortress. 
His  vaquero-guards  did  sentry  duty  along  every 
pathway  leading  in  from  the  plains.  But  in  the 
thick  darkness  of  night,  when  he  had  thought  all 

176 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    177 

doubly  secure,  beneath  his  very  window  a  voice 
cried : 

"Gpnzales!" 

Wide  awake  in  an  instant,  he  yet  hesitated  to 
respond  to  the  call.  He  had  no  means  of  knowing 
whether  the  voice  was  that  of  friend  or  foe,  but  a 
throb  of  something  like  actual  fear  shook  him  as 
he  sat,  undecided,  on  the  edge  of  his  couch.  And 
while  he  waited  the  call  came  again : 

"Gonzales!" 

He  arose  then  and  went  to  the  window,  merely 
a  narrow,  closely  barred  aperture,  for  the  real 
"front"  of  the  house,  if  so  it  could  be  called, 
opened,  as  to  both  doors  and  windows,  upon  the 
inner  court.  He  could  see  no  one,  since,  from 
where  he  stood,  it  was  impossible  to  command  a 
view  of  the  ground  beneath  him,  but  he  answered, 
boldly  enough : 

"Who  calls — and  what  would  you  have  of  me?" 

The  voice  came  again  from  the  darkness — 
stern,  accusing: 

"Where  is  Herrera?" 

Gonzales  stepped  back,  shuddering,  and  at 
tempted  no  reply.  And  again  came  the  accusing 
question : 

"Where  is  Herrera?" 

With  an  effort  Gonzales  drew  himself  up,  and 
would  have  answered.  But  resolution  and  voice 
seemed  alike  to  fail  him.  The  very  stillness  of  the 
night  impressed  him  as  uncanny.  Was  it  possi 
ble  no  one  but  himself  was  awake  about  the  great 
house?  Were  there  no  ears  but  his  to  hear  the 
words  of  that  midnight  questioner?  And  while 


178    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

lie  still  wondered,  shaken  by  unwonted  fear,  the 
voice  spoke  again : 

i  i  Look  on  your  door  in  the  morning  for  the  mes 
sage  of  Herrera's  friends." 

That  was  all.  He  listened  long  and  intently, 
but  heard  no  more.  Neither  was  there  sound  of 
retreating  footsteps,  yet  he  felt,  after  a  time,  that 
his  midnight  visitor  was  no  longer  beneath  his  win 
dow.  No  thought  of  pursuit  entered  his  mind. 
Rather  it  seemed  a  matter  of  simple  certainty  that 
whoever  could  dare  so  to  approach  his  stronghold 
must  unquestionably  have  a  means  of  safe  and 
easy  retreat.  And  there  was  that  in  all  the  cir 
cumstances  which  left  him,  though  he  could  not 
ordinarily  be  accused  of  timidity,  with  no  relish 
to  venture  forth  that  night. 

But  in  the  morning  he  was  the  first  without  his 
dwelling — and,  driven  deep  in  the  oak  of  the  mas 
sive  door  which  closed  the  main  entrance,  was  a 
Spanish  dirk.  Gonzales  drew  the  weapon  out, 
concealed  it  in  his  clothing,  and  said  nothing  to  his 
household  of  the  message  so  plainly  conveyed. 
But  that  day  he  caused  his  wife  and  his  sister,  the 
only  females  of  his  family,  to  mount  their  horses, 
and  sent  them  at  once  to  the  Rivas  Rancho, 
guarded  by  half  his  followers.  Knowing  the  Mo 
rales  as  he  did,  he  had  little  fear,  despite  his  hate, 
that  they  would  interfere  with  women,  even 
though  the  latter  might  be  entirely  unguarded. 
Indeed,  he  more  than  suspected  that  the  grim 
warning  of  the  night  was  intended  to  indicate  to 
him  that  he  should  see  to  the  safety  of  the  non- 
combatants  of  his  household.  But  there  were 


THE  NINE  SWOBDS  OF  MORALES    179 

always  chances — and  it  was  with  deep  relief,  a 
few  hours  later,  that  he  saw  most  of  his  men  re 
turn  with  the  message  that  Pancha  and  her  com 
panion  were  safe  beneath  her  father's  roof. 

Then  Gonzales  armed  all  his  men  to  the  utmost, 
doubled  his  sentries  everywhere,  barred  the  en 
trance  to  his  house  more  strongly  than  ever,  and 
waited — grimly  expectant  and  as  grimly  defiant. 

And  not  long.  With  the  earliest  dawn  of  the 
next  morning  the  Morales  were  at  his  door.  With 
a  rush  of  hoofs  and  a  clatter  of  arms  they  swept 
up  the  canyon  roadway,  his  sentries  scattering 
like  rabbits  before  them.  The  master  heard  the 
uproar  but  just  in  time  to  bid  his  porter  close  and 
bar  the  wicket  which  was  the  only  means  of 
entrance  or  exit  that  had  not  long  before  been 
made  secure.  The  next  instant  Carlos  Morales 
was  thundering  at  the  door. 

It  was  heavy  and  strong,  a  double  thickness  of 
planks  of  hewn  oak,  barred  with  iron,  and  the 
massive  wall  of  adobe  in  which  it  was  set  was 
strengthened  with  rock  and  rubble.  The  Casa 
Gonzales  was,  indeed — save  for  Vallejo's  official 
residence  at  Sonoma — the  one  dwelling  in  the  en 
tire  district  built  on  the  semi-fortress  plan  so 
favored  in  the  far  south.  A  solid,  flat-topped 
square,  "fronting,"  to  use  the  word,  on  an  in 
terior  court,  it  stood  upon  the  steep  slope  of  a 
canyon  opening  a  mile  below  on  the  Santa  Eosa 
plains.  A  narrow  roadway,  zigzagging  steeply 
at  the  last  to  the  entrance,  was  the  only  means  of 
access.  It  was  up  this  roadway,  without  a  pause 
despite  its  roughness,  that  The  Nine  thundered, 

13 


180    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

their  horses'  hoofs  striking  fire,  and  the  ring  of 
iron  upon  stone,  steel  against  steel,  awakening  the 
echoes  of  the  canyon. 

It  has  been  said  that  Ramon  Gonzales  was  no 
coward,  but,  as  he  stood  just  within  his  barred 
doorway  and  listened  to  the  clamor  without,  he 
felt  moved  to  bless  the  impulse  that  had  led  him 
of  old  to  dare  the  jests  of  his  friends  and  make 
his  home  a  fortress. 

Yet  as  he  listened  and  came  to  distinguish  the 
words  which  accompanied  the  trampling  of  hoofs 
without  and  the  continuous  knocking  upon  the 
solid  oak,  they  did  not  seem  to  threaten,  but  rather 
to  convey  a  promise  of  truce. 

"Open,"  said  a  voice — the  voice  of  Carlos  Mo 
rales.  "A  word  with  you,  Senor  Gonzales — a 
a  word  for  the  sake  of  peace. ' ' 

Gonzales  laid  his  hand  upon  the  bars,  but  a 
frightened  gasp  from  his  porter  restrained  him. 
The  man  was  white  and  trembling. 

' '  Senor — Senor, ' '  he  said,  ' '  surely  you  will  not 
open?" 

"And  why  not?    It  is  but  to  talk." 

"Ah,  Senor!  never  trust  the  mad  Morales! 
They  will  rush  in —  Ah,  you  have  never  been  in 
the  hands  of  those  wild  men,  Senor.  To  me  at 
least  it  would  mean  death." 

"Death! — to  you?     Man,  you  are  dreaming." 

"No — it  was  that  madman,  Diego.  He  let  me 
go — but  he  bade  me  never  come  within  his  reach 
again.  He  needed  a  new  lariat,  he  said,  and  was 
looking  for  a  good  hide." 

Gonzales    laughed    in    spite    of    himself,    and 


THE]  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    181 

turned  again  to  the  door — whereat  the  porter,  de 
serting  his  post  without  staying  to  ask  for  leave, 
fled  wildly  to  the  interior  of  the  casa. 

Gonzales  threw  open  the  small  wicket  set  in  the 
upper  part  of  the  great  door  and  pressed  his  face 
against  the  grating  which  still  served  as  a  barrier. 

"I  am  here,"  he  said,  with  stern  coldness. 
* '  What  is  your  wish  ? ' ' 

Carlos  Morales  answered,  more  sternly  still : 

"Give  us  Herrera — unharmed"  he  said,  "or 
give  us  his  murderer." 

"Neither  will  I  do,"  said  Gonzales  doggedly. 
"And  I  warn  you,"  he  added,  "to  leave  my  lands, 
law-breakers  that  you  are." 

"Law-breakers!"  echoed  Diego  Morales, 
youngest  of  The  Nine.  "Law-breakers!  The 
devil  is  turned  priest !  Waste  no  time  in  talk,  Car 
los,"  he  added  fiercely.  "Break  in  the  door!" 

But  the  elder  waved  him  back. 

1 '  Senor, ' '  he  said  again,  ' l  one  last  word.  If  so 
be  you  can  undo  what  you  have  done,  for  your  own 
sake  do  not  fail.  We  are  here — my  brethren  and 
myself.  Our  people  hold  the  canyon  road,  and 
Rivas,  even  if  he  would,  can  render  you  no  aid. 
Herrera 's  own  men  are  swarming  on  the  hillside 
at  your  back — mad  for  their  master.  Give  him 
up,  if  you  can,  for  all  our  sakes,  while  yet  the 
chance  is  yours." 

Gonzales'  face  paled  a  little,  but  he  did  not 
falter.  "Do  what  you  will- — and  can,"  he  said 
stubbornly. 

1  i  Shall  we  not  fire  upon  them — now,  while  they 
stand  together?"  said  his  brother,  Sancho,  ap- 


182    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

pearing  at  his  side,  a  carbine  in  his  hand,  the  ham 
mer  already  raised. 

His  brother  waved  him  back.  "No,"  he  said 
coldly,  "it  is  not  ours  to  begin.  Go  to  the  others 
and  see  that  all  keep  out  of  sight — unless,  in 
deed/'  and  a  grim  smile  flitted  for  a  moment  over 
his  stern  face — "unless  you  wish,  my  brother,  to 
sacrifice  yourself  for  the  rest  of  us.  Shall  I  open 
the  door  for  you?" 

Sancho  walked  away  with  a  muttered  curse,  and 
Ramon,  again  grimly  smiling,  turned  to  close  the 
wicket. 

As  he  did  so  there  was  a  terrific  crash,  and  the 
massive  planking  of  the  great  door  cracked  and 
quivered  as  if  it  would  burst  from  the  iron  fasten 
ings.  Looking  hastily  through  the  barred  aper 
ture,  Gonzales  saw  that  the  gigantic  Carlos  had 
dismounted,  picked  up  a  huge  block  of  stone  from 
the  rocky  roadway,  and  dashed  it  with  all  his  tre 
mendous  strength  against  the  planking. 

Even  as  Gonzales  looked,  the  Morales  was  stoop 
ing  to  secure  his  missile  for  a  second  throw. 
Again  came  the  terrific  crash,  and  once  more  the 
oak  cracked  and  shook,  while  great  splinters 
sprung  away  from  the  iron  fastenings,  though  the 
framework  and  planking,  as  a  whole,  still  held 
firm. 

But  it  was  evident  that  it  could  not  sustain 
many  more  such  shocks,  and  Gonzales,  the  fierce 
lust  of  battle  now  rising  rapidly  within  him,  was 
debating  if  he  should  not  indeed  take  his  brother 's 
advice  and  be  the  first  to  make  the  conflict,  now 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    183" 

so  inevitable,  one  to  the  death,  when  there  came 
an  interruption. 

On  the  roadway  below  sounded  a  clatter  of 
hoofs,  and  up  the  steep  ascent  galloped  a  rudely 
clad  Indian,  his  garb  as  well  as  the  trappings  of 
the  shaggy-haired  pony  he  rode  alike  making 
plain  that  the  newcomer  was  not  a  domiciled 
aborigine,  but  one  of  those  preferring  the  rule  of 
his  native  chiefs.  Yet,  as  he  came  nearer,  Gon- 
zales  saw  in  a  moment,  despite  the  change  in 
dress,  that  the  new  arrival  was  Pepe,  once  of  Don 
Pedro  Rivas'  household,  but  since  the  night  of 
Francisco  Herrera's  visit  a  stranger  to  his  old 
haunts  and  home.  His  present  appearance  made 
clear  where  and  with  whom  he  had  found  a  refuge. 

Pepe  rode  at  once  to  Carlos'  side,  the  great 
brethren  making  way,  and  spoke  with  slow  ear 
nestness,  but  so  low  that  Gonzales  heard  no  word. 
What  he  said,  however,  produced  an  effect  strik 
ing  and  immediate.  Gonzales  saw  Morales  grasp 
the  Indian's  hand,  then  sign  to  the  eight  brothers. 
They  gathered  closely  about  him,  listening  with 
tense  faces  to  the  few  words  he  said — words 
which  Gonzales  would  have  given  much  to  over 
hear.  Then  there  was  a  murmur  in  the  group, 
quick,  low-toned  question  and  answer,  and  next, 
the  peering  chief  of  the  beleaguered  household 
saw  Carlos  mount  his  horse  and  ride  closer  to  the 
cracked  and  splintered  door. 

"Senor  Gonzales, "  said  the  Morales  calmly, 
"we  leave  you — for  a  time." 

Then,  before  the  amazed  man  he  addressed 
could  frame  a  reply,  he  swung  his  horse  about, 


184    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

and  a  moment  later,  attended  by  his  brethren,  was 
quietly  riding  down  the  roadway  without  so  much 
as  a  single  look  behind. 

A  sneering  laugh  caused  Gonzales  to  look 
around — to  find  Sancho  standing  at  his  shoulder. 
"Who  would  have  thought,"  said  the  younger 
contemptuously,  "that  they  would  have  lost  cour 
age  so  soon?" 

But  the  elder's  only  answer  for  a  moment  at 
least  was  to  stare  at  him  with  a  fixed  and  curious 
regard  which  he  found  strangely  disquieting. 

"Sancho,"  said  Ramon  at  last,  as  if  moved  by 
deep  and  solemn  thought  to  an  inevitable  con 
clusion,  "you  are  the  greatest  fool  in  Sonoma." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   SHOCK   AND    THE    GEIEF    THAT   RAMON    GONZALES 
BROUGHT   TO    HIS    FRIENDS   AT   THE    CASA  RIVAS 

TO  OLD  Don  Pedro  Rivas  the  story  of  Her- 
rera's  disappearance  and  probable  death 
came  as  a  distinct  shock.  Strangely  enough,  he 
was  one  of  the  last  of  those  even  indirectly  con 
cerned  to  hear  of  what  had  happened.  His  first 
intimation,  as  it  chanced,  was  given  him  by  Pan- 
cha,  the  fair  and  fickle  cause  of  all  the  contention 
in  the  valleys  of  Sonoma  since  the  day  swords  had 
first  flashed  and  blood  been  shed  because  of  her 
witchery.  She  knew  but  little,  for  it  had  been 
neither  her  husband's  nor  her  brother-in-law's 
policy  to  speak  of  the  affair  of  Herrera  either  to 
her  father  or  herself  unless  compelled  to. 

And  compelled  to  the  elder  Gonzales  was  on  the 
occasion  of  his  first  visit  to  his  father-in-law's 
dwelling  after  the  fiercely  begun  and  strangely 
abandoned  attack  of  the  Morales  upon  his  home. 

The  unexpected  and  unexplained  ending  of  that 
sudden  assault  remained,  in  great  part  at  least,  a 
mystery  to  Gonzales,  as  did  the  strange  season  of 
truce  which  followed ;  but  by  the  latter  he  did  not 
fail  to  profit.  Assured  through  careful  scouting 
and  such  other  investigation  as  could  be  made 

185 


186    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

that  the  apparent  withdrawal  of  his  foes  from  his 
neighborhood  was  not  a  ruse  to  lure  him  from  his 
defenses,  Gonzales  seized  the  earliest  opportunity 
to  leave  his  house  in  charge  of  his  brother  and  to 
betake  himself  to  the  Rivas  Rancho.  Passion 
ately  devoted  to  his  beautiful  if  cold-hearted  wife, 
and  never  at  peace  apart  from  her,  he  was  now 
as  eager  that  she  should  return  to  her  home  as  he 
had  been  for  her  to  leave  it  when  he  believed  that 
to  stay  meant  danger.  The  unhappy  circumstan 
ces  under  which  he  had  become  her  husband  had 
served,  strangely  enough,  to  keep  him  still,  in  a 
way,  at  least,  a  lover  and  a  wooer.  There  was  yet 
between  them  the  wall  which  her  girlish  fickleness 
and  his  own  bad  faith  had  jointly  raised.  To 
cause  her  to  forget — if  not  that,  then  at  least  to 
forgive — how  far  he  had  stepped  aside  from  the 
way  of  honor,  even  though  her  own  conduct  had 
been  the  moving  cause  of  that  treachery,  was  ever 
his  hope — a  hope  that  at  times  grew  faint  almost 
to  the  point  of  expiring.  But,  despairing  or  oth 
erwise,  he  was  never  willingly  long  away  from  the 
woman  whose  hand  he  had  already  won — by  what 
shameful  means  he  grew  sick  at  times  to  remem 
ber — but  whose  heart  seemed  still  beyond  his 
reach. 

But  old  Don  Pedro  Rivas,  willing  as  he  was 
ordinarily  to  efface  himself  whenever  he  could 
hope  so  to  do  something  tending  to  a  better  under 
standing  between  his  daughter  and  his  son-in-law, 
on  this  occasion  allowed  the  latter  little  leisure 
even  for  greetings. 

"What  is  this  that  I  hear,  Ramon!"  he  de- 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    187 

manded  sternly.     "What  of  Francisco  Herrera?" 

Vexed  at  the  intrusion,  and  at  that  moment,  of 
a  subject  always  so  unwelcome,  Gonzales 
answered,  hiding  his  displeasure  as  best  he  could 
under  an  assumed  heartless  indifference  which, 
oddly  enough,  did  him  an  actual  injustice: 

6  i  I  know  nothing  of  him,  Senor,  other  than  what 
every  one  knows.  He  is  missing,  and  there  are 
those  who  say  he  is  dead." 

Rivas  still  held  him  with  eyes  of  gloomy  ques 
tion. 

"It  was  not,"  muttered  the  old  ranchero 
hoarsely — "not  that  night?  I  had  your  promise, 
Ramon — " 

"And  it  was  not  broken,"  said  Gonzales,  driven 
desperate  now,  and  meeting  his  host's  gaze  firmly 
but  with  an  effort  that  racked  his  soul.  Then, 
urged  to  reckless  speech  by  the  lash  of  something 
within  him  which  seemed  to  make  silence  impos 
sible,  he  added : 

' '  If  Francisco  Herrera  died  that  night,  or  later, 
upon  my  life  I  had  no  hand  in  his  slaying. ' ' 

There  was  one  within  the  room  who  had  grown 
ghastly  white  while  they  talked,  but  no  one  as  yet 
had  noticed  her.  Her  father,  ever  too  strict  in  his 
own  sense  of  honor  willingly  to  suspect  others, 
was  already  seeking  how  best  to  remove  from  his 
son-in-law 's  mind  the  thought  that  he  had  doubted 
him.  He  could  think  of  no  better  way  than  to 
continue  the  conversation,  but  in  a  manner  less 
personal. 

"Francisco  Herrera  dead — that  gallant  cabal- 
lero !"  said  the  old  man  in  sorrow  that  was  not  as- 


188    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

sumed.     "I  knew  the  boy  from  the  day  of  his 
birth.     What  is  it  that  you  tell  me?" 

"Oh,  it  is  true  enough,'7  said  Gonzales,  angrily 
reckless  still.  "It  is  all  over  the  valley.  His 
horse  came  home  without  him,  and  although  his 
friends  are  said  to  have  searched  near  and  far, 
they  have  found  nothing.  Perhaps  the  body  is 
sunk  in  one  of  the  arroyos — or  perhaps — the 
coyotes — " 

i  i  Dios ! ' '  came  in  a  shuddering  sigh  from  Yda, 
and  she  hurried  from  the  room. 

"What  ails  Yda?"  asked  her  coldly  beautiful 
sister.  "One  would  not  look  for  a  Rivas  to 
mourn  for  a  Herrera." 

But  her  father  answered  her  with  a  look  and 
tone  in  which  were  more  of  sternness  than  she  had 
known  from  him  ever  in  her  life  before. 

"I  think  no  less  of  her,  Pancha,"  he  said 
coldly,  "that  she  has  still  the  pitying  heart  of  a 
child.  You  have  forgotten,  it  would  seem,  that 
the  youth  was  for  years  her  playmate — and  your 
own.  And  to  you,  Gonzales, "  said  the  old  man, 
again  moved  to  sternness — "to  you  let  me  say 
that  if  I  am  to  believe  you  or  yours  have  carried 
your  hate  for  Herrera  's  friends  to  such  a  point  as 
this,  then  I  shall  grieve  that  you  ever  passed  my 
doors.  Never  until  this  unhappy  quarrel  began," 
he  added  with  proud  sorrow,  "had  they  been 
closed  upon  any  man,  whatever  his  race  or 
people. ' ' 

Gonzales  shook  his  head  in  deprecation,  but  he 
suffered  his  eyes  to  sink  to  the  floor  lest,  perhaps, 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    181) 

his  host  and  relative  should  see  something  in  their 
flickering  depths  that  were  better  left  unread. 

And,  at  that  same  moment,  Yda  had  flung  her 
self  down  before  her  couch  and  buried  her  white 
face  in  the  coverings,  murmuring  in  passionate 
despair : 

' l  Dead — dead !  Madre  de  Dios !  then  what  is 
there  left  forme?" 

But  there  was  no  answer,  and  on  the  morrow, 
as  if  fate  had  not  already  shown  how  hard  it  could 
be,  Sancho  Gonzales  came  to  renew  his  wooing. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

OF  THE  WOOING  OF  SANCHO  GONZALES,  AND  THE  OMEN 
THAT  DARKENED  ITS  BEGINNING 

ILL  sped  the  wooing  of  Sanclio  Gonzales,  backed 
though  the  suitor  was  by  the  promise  already 
given,  by  the  urging  of  a  father  who  considered 
his  honor  pledged,  and  by  the  influence  of  the 
brother  who  had  already  found  his  wife  at  the 
Casa  Rivas,  and  whose  aim  and  desire  it  had  been 
for  months  past  to  cement  yet  more  closely  the 
ties  that  bound  his  interests  with  those  of  the  next 
largest  landed  proprietor  in  the  valley.  Sancho 
Gonzales  had  needed  no  urging  or  argument  to 
appreciate  the  prudence  of  such  an  alliance  when 
once  his  darkly  admiring  eyes  had  fallen  upon  the 
calm  beauty  of  Yda  Rivas.  Less  brilliant,  per 
haps,  than  the  coquettish  sister,  who  had  in  other 
days  so  played  with  the  hearts  of  men  as  to  in 
volve  all  the  land  in  turmoil,  she  was  yet  far 
lovelier  in  so  much  as  beauty  may  be  measured 
by  gentleness  and  truth.  Sancho  Gonzales,  like 
his  headstrong  brother,  was  not  without  his  better 
side.  One  of  its  features  was  a  capacity  to  ap 
preciate  in  others,  to  a  degree  at  least,  those  quali 
ties  of  gentle  goodness  of  which  in  his  own  person 
he  had  never  felt  the  need.  When  he  first  saw 

190 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    191 

Yda  Rivas  he  loved  her — loved  her  so  far  as 
might  be  possible  for  one  of  his  reckless,  overbear 
ing  nature — and,  to  do  him  justice,  it  was  her  ten 
der  womanliness,  as  much  as  the  calm  beauty  of 
her  features,  that  won  from  him,  for  a  time  at 
least,  a  passion  that  was  almost  adoration. 
And,  to  grudge  him  nothing,  it  should  be  added 
that,  in  this  case,  however  much  his  elder  brother 
may  have  dwelt  upon  this  point,  the  thought  that 
Yda  would  some  day  share  with  her  sister  the 
wealth  in  stock  and  lands  of  their  father  never 
for  a  moment  found  lodging  in  his  mind.  In  his 
own  wild  way  he  was  an  honest  wooer.  But  ill 
sped  that  wooing. 

A  gay  and  dashing  figure,  gorgeous  in  costly 
velvet  and  flashing  with  silver  trappings,  rode 
Sancho  Gonzales  that  morning  from  his  brother's 
home  to  the  Casa  Rivas.  Sky  and  earth  alike 
were  bright  above  and  about  him.  The  petty  but 
harassing  warfare  of  neighbor  against  neighbor 
seemed,  strangely  enough,  to  have  ended.  The 
way  had  been  smoothed  for  him  on  his  errand, 
and  in  the  gentle  submissiveness  the  bride  he 
hoped  for  had  already  shown  to  the  wishes  of  her 
kindred  he  read  every  augury  of  success.  If  there 
were  a  shadow  upon  his  horizon  it  could  be  only  of 
his  own  mental  making — and  Sancho  Gonzales' 
nature  was  not  of  a  character  to  foster  vagaries 
such  as  this. 

In  after  years  he  remembered  regretfully,  as 
one  will  feel  over  brightness  lost  and  never  to  be 
recalled,  just  how  brilliant  with  promise  that  day 
had  been. 


192    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

He  had  ridden  alone  from  his  brother's  home, 
for  the  present  his  as  well,  since  on  the  broad 
tracts  where  his  own  cattle-herds  ranged  there 
was  as  yet  no  dwelling.  He  had  declined  the  es 
cort  offered  him,  knowing  though  he  did  the  in 
tensity  of  the  feeling  still  existing  against  every 
one  of  his  name  among  the  friends  of  the  lost  Her- 
rera.  But  in  the  district  lying  immediately  be 
tween  the  houses  of  his  brother  and  Rivas,  whose 
lands  adjoined,  he  had  felt  there  could  be  little 
chance  of  danger — and  he  was  going  a-wooing. 
However  the  latter  circumstance  might  have  in 
clined  other  youthful  gallants,  Gonzales  pre 
ferred,  on  such  an  errand,  to  ride  alone. 

It  was,  then,  rather  with  the  vexation  of  one 
upon  whom  unwelcome  companionship  bid  fair  to 
be  thrust  rather  than  with  any  fear  of  peril  that, 
as  his  path  led  him  at  last  out  from  the  defile  of 
the  Santa  Rosa  Mountains  into  the  open  plain, 
spreading  widely  to  the  distant  and  heavily  tim 
bered  ridge  in  the  west,  he  heard  behind  the  sound 
of  following  hoofs.  With  a  frown  he  abruptly 
reined  in  his  horse  and  turned  to  see  upon  whom 
his  hasty  displeasure  should  be  vented. 

As  he  waited  an  Indian  rode  quietly  forth  from 
the  defile  after  him,  and  a  glance  was  all  that  was 
necessary  to  assure  Gonzales  that  the  newcomer 
was  not  of  the  many  aborigines  who,  as  herdsmen 
or  otherwise,  served  his  brother. 

But  if  there  was  nothing  familiar,  neither  was 
there  anything  hostile  in  the  aspect  of  the 
stranger.  Wildly  clad  he  was,  indeed,  after  the 
fashion  of  those  of  the  aboriginal  dwellers  in  the 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    193 

land  who  preferred  the  domination  of  the  three 
chiefs,  Solano,  Sonoma,  and  Marin,  to  the  mild 
rule  of  the  Spanish  padres  at  the  missions  in  the 
south,  but  it  was  with  every  appearance  of  peace 
ful  intention  that  the  dark-faced  horseman  rode 
calmly  forward  and  placed  himself  by  Sancho 's 
side.  And  his  coming  was  no  accident,  for  he 
spoke  at  once  as  one  having  an  errand  and  zeal 
ous  to  perform  it  without  delay. 

"I  seek  the  Senor  Sancho  Gonzales,"  he  said  in 
guttural  but  quite  perfect  Spanish. 

Gonzales  slightly  bent  his  head,  already,  despite 
himself,  beginning  to  feel  disturbed  under  the  gaze 
of  the  piercing  black  eyes  that  met  his  own. 

"I  bring  back  the  Sefior's  lariat,"  spoke  the 
Indian  again,  and  quietly  flung  over  Gonzales' 
saddle-horn  a  long  coil  of  braided  rawhide. 

Gonzales  knew  it  in  an  instant,  slight  though  its 
points  of  difference  from  a  score  of  others  might 
be.  It  was  that  which  had  hurled  Francisco  Her- 
rera  from  his  saddle  and  had  been  left  still  noosed 
about  his  body. 

When  Sancho  could  lift  his  guilty  eyes  the 
strange  messenger  who  brought  the  unwelcome 
token  was  already  riding  quietly  away,  skirting 
the  hills  to  the  northward. 

1  *  Diablo ! ' '  shouted  Gonzales  in  a  sudden  frenzy 
of  rage.  "Come  back  to  me,  you  black  dog!" 

If  the  other  heard  he  gave  no  sign,  unless  in 
deed  the  fact  that  he  spurred  his  rough  pony  into 
a  rapid  lope  might  be  taken  as  an  indication. 

"Wait!  wait!"  shouted  Gonzales,  still  in  a 
frenzy  of  unreasoning  anger  and  only  conscious 


194    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

that  to  allow  the  bearer  of  his  secret  to  roam 
abroad  as  he  listed  meant  he  knew  not  what  of 
deadly  vengeance  in  the  future.  "Wait!"  he 
shrieked  again.  "You  shall  not  so  escape  me!" 

The  last  words  might,  indeed,  well  be  more  than 
idle  threat,  for  there  were  few  swifter  steeds  in 
the  Sonoma  valleys  than  that  which  Gonzales 
rode,  and  the  canter  of  the  Indian  pony,  rapid 
though  it  seemed,  was  as  nothing  compared  with 
the  great  bounds  of  this  long-limbed  courser. 
Little  more  than*  a  moment  would  have  been 
needed  for  Gonzales  to  overtake  the  fugitive,  if 
such  the  latter  were — but  there  came  an  inter 
ruption. 

Down  from  the  brush-covered  hillside  suddenly 
dashed  a  second  stranger  horseman,  directly  in 
Gonzales'  path.  But  no  fugitive  this,  for,  so  far 
from  fleeing  in  the  track  of  the  special  object  of 
Gonzales'  wrath,  the  newcomer  whirled  his  horse 
about  and  halted  squarely  across  the  way  of  the 
pursuer. 

Gonzales  had  but  an  instant  to  make  his  choice 
between  attempting  to  ride  directly  over  the  in 
truder  and  drawing  his  own  rein — and  he  did  not 
hesitate.  There  was  that  in  the  dark,  sternly 
marked  face  before  him — the  fierce  eyes  glowing 
from  beneath  bristling  brows,  the  gleaming  teeth, 
half  seen  amid  a  thick  mass  of  wiry  beard — that 
moved  him  not  to  trifle.  And  he  drew  his  rein  but 
just  in  time,  for  as  he  flung  his  struggling  steed 
back  upon  his  haunches  and  held  him  so,  as  mo 
tionless  as  might  be,  the  fierce  eyes  of  the  wild- 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    195 

faced  man  before  him  seemed  almost  against  his 
own. 

For  one  moment  they  remained  so,  motionless, 
on  Gonzales'  part  almost  breathless.  Then  the 
stranger  lifted  a  dark,  sinewy  hand  and  pointed 
southward : 

"Go  back!"  said  Sonoma. 

Gonzales  went  back,  and  with  no  word. 

Strangest  of  wooings  that.  Gonzales  could 
never  claim  to  have  won  a  look  of  more  than  in 
different  toleration  from  the  sad  eyes  that  seemed 
at  times  as  if  they  had  already  looked  their  last 
upon  earthly  hope  and  joy.  But  the  lover,  if  he 
could  not  understand,  failed  not  to  avail  himself 
of  an  indifference  which  seemed,  in  this  stage  of 
his  courtship  at  least,  to  work  rather  for  than 
against  his  suit.  If  she  gave  him  no  encourage 
ment,  no  promises,  neither  did  she  seem  to  deem  it 
necessary  to  oppose.  And  where  she  could  not  or 
would  not  speak  herself,  there  were  those  who 
scrupled  not  to  do  so  for  her,  and  at  the  last  she 
suffered  it  to  be  so.  Who  was  there  now  to  care? 

Once,  indeed,  she  had  almost  rebelled  and  re 
fused  utterly  to  fulfill  the  promise  the  giving  of 
which  had  now  for  so  long  been  a  source  of  daily, 
almost  hourly,  wonder  in  her  bewildered  mind. 
Alone  in  her  room  in  the  darkness  of  a  December 
evening,  when  she  had  at  last  succeeded  in  escap 
ing  from  a  companionship  she  was  fast  beginning 
to  loathe,  there  floated  to  her  window  from  some 
where  near,  the  words  of  a  song  she  knew.  Fran 
cisco  had  sung  it  often  in  the  old  days,  so,  indeed, 
had  many  of  his  one-time  comrades,  for,  simp]e 

14 


196    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

as  were  words  and  melody,  it  had  once,  for  a  sea 
son,  been  upon  every  one's  tongue.  That  it  should 
be  sung  again,  and  here,  was  not  so  strange,  but 
in  the  air  as  it  came  from  the  unseen  singer,  rising 
soft  and  low  in  the  darkness,  there  seemed  a  note 
of  the  voice  of  Herrera. 

She  knew  that  the  thought  was  folly,  that  it 
could  not  be ;  that  the  singer,  indeed,  must  be  no 
other  than  the  man  she  had  so  lately  fled  from  in 
the  great  living-room  of  the  casa — yet  still  she 
listened ;  listened  with  a  madness  of  yearning  for 
the  lost  lover  of  the  past  which  seemed  suddenly 
to  drive  home  in  her  heart  a  conviction  of  how 
utterly  hideous  it  would  be  to  fill  his  place  with 
another.  How  dared  that  other  sing  the  song 
that  had  been  his — and  in  a  voice  so  like  his 
own  ?  She  felt  that  she  hated  him  for  it — yet  she 
listened,  listened  with  a  yearning  eagerness  that 
would  not  allow  her  to  miss  a  word. 

"Oh,  soft  be  thy  rest,  dear  lady, 

And  sweet  be  thy  dreams  to-night; 
No  care  vex  thy  breast,  dear  lady, 

No  tears  dim  thine  eyes'  dark  light. 
Good-night,  farewell,  till  the  morrow, 

Good-night,  farewell,  once  again, 
So  siveet  in  this  parting  the  sorroiv, 
One  lingers  to  lengthen  the  pain! 
So  siveet  in  this  parting  the  sorrow, 

One  lingers  to  lengthen  the  pain! 

"What  though  the  day  fade,  dear  lady, 

What  though  the  sun's  brightness  be  gone, 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    197 

Not  always  the  shade,  dear  lady, 

After  dark  cometh  ever  the  dawn. 
Good-night,  fareivell,  till  the  morrow, 

Good-night,  farewell,  once  again, 
So  sweet  in  this  parting  the  sorrow, 

One  lingers  to  lengthen  the  pain! 
So  sweet  in  this  parting  the  sorrow, 

One  lingers  to  lengthen  the  pain!" 

The  song  ended,  and  Yda,  still  with  that  wild 
hope — mad  as  she  knew  it  to  be — throbbing  in  her 
being,  listened  with  tense  eagerness  at  her  open 
window  for  a  renewal  of  its  melody,  but  listened 
in  vain.  Something  of  relief  came  to  her  at  last 
in  a  sudden  burst  of  tears,  but  this  expression  of 
her  overcharged  emotions  was  as  brief  as  it  was 
violent.  Then  the  calm  gentleness  of  her  nature 
again  asserted  itself,  and  with  it  came  a  half  re 
morseful  feeling  for  the  suitor  whom  she  could 
not  but  realize  was  striving  his  best  to  win  her 
favor,  discouraging  though  the  results  had  thus 
far  been  and  ill-judged  as  was  this,  his  latest  ef 
fort.  She  dried  her  eyes,  drew  a  scarf  of  lace 
about  her  face  the  better  to  conceal  the  traces  of 
her  tears,  and  again  sought  the  main  apartment 
of  the  casa. 

As  she  entered  it  through  the  doorway  nearest 
her  own  room,  Sancho  Gonzales  appeared  in  that 
opening  upon  the  porch.  Long  after  she  remem 
bered  that  there  was  a  strange  look  upon  his  face 
and  that  his  brother  and  her  sister — again  the 
guests  of  her  father — glanced  at  her  oddly.  But 
to  nothing  of  this  at  the  moment  did  she  give  heed, 


198    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

only  walked  directly  forward  to  meet  Sanclio, 
saying,  with  grave  sweetness,  when  they  stood  to 
gether  in  the  center  of  the  room : 

"I  thank  you,  Seiior,  for  your  song.  It  was  kind 
of  you  so  to  seek  to  please  me. ' ' 

Then,  with  a  bow  of  wordless  good-night,  she 
left  him,  walking  swiftly  yet  with  no  appearance 
of  haste,  until  she  had  passed  from  view.  And 
who  was  to  know  that  in  the  seclusion  of  her  own 
room,  hidden  from  all  eyes,  she  flung  herself  down 
upon  her  couch  and  wept  almost  until  the  dawn? 

But,  when  she  had  left  them,  the  Gonzales 
brothers  and  her  sister  looked  at  one  another  with 
questioning  eyes,  in  silence,  for  a  time,  until  San- 
eho  at  last  muttered  hoarsely : 

"I  found  no  one  there.     What  does  it  mean?" 

Then  the  elder  brother  spoke  with  a  directness 
and  emphasis  which  showed  that,  whatever  doubt 
might  exist  in  other  minds,  there  was  none  in  his : 

"It  means,"  he  said,  "that  your  marriage  must 
be  hurried — if  it  is  to  occur  at  all." 

When  the  end  came,  and  they  told  Yda  that 
Christmas  eve  was  near,  and  that  the  holiday  fes 
tival,  which  it  was  ever  Don  Pedro's  custom  to 
provide  for  his  friends  and  dependents  upon  that 
occasion,  should  also  serve  to  celebrate  her  wed 
ding,  for  one  moment  a  sudden  wave  of  sickening, 
shuddering  revulsion  swept  over  her.  Then  once 
again  came  the  calm  of  the  old  resignation  and  the 
old  despair. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  STRANGE  GUESTS  WHO  CAME  UNINVITED,  BUT  NOT 
UNWELCOME,  TO  THE  SECOND  RIVAS  WEDDING 

IN  THE  blending  lights  of  the  Casa  Rivas,  the 
one  spot  of  brightness  in  the  night-darkened 
plain  on  that  Christmas  wedding  eve,  something 
there  seemed  suggestive  far  less  of  cheer  than  of 
isolation  and  loneliness.  There  was  no  moon — 
had  there  been  the  clouds  must  have  hidden  it,  as 
they  did  the  stars — and  the  broad  expanse  stretch 
ing  westward  from  the  hills  lay  black  beneath  the 
sky,  the  darker  for  the  silence  everywhere  prevail 
ing,  even  to  the  very  walls  of  the  casa,  within  which 
should  have  been,  on  an  occasion  such  as  this,  so 
much  of  joyous  merriment.  And  Ramon  Carillo's 
ghosts  of  the  plain  were  all  abroad — strange 
guests  for  a  wedding  festival.  They  made  no 
sound  in  their  coming,  but  they  gathered  thickly 
in  the  shadows  of  the  arroyo  banks,  beneath  the 
moss-hung  white  oaks,  in  the  shelter  of  the  willow- 
copses,  some,  as  the  night  grew  older  and  darker, 
even  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  casa-walls.  But 
there  was  no  word  or  whisper,  no  sound  of  any 
kind  that  gave  warning  of  their  presence. 

Yet  no  filmy,  air-formed  phantoms  these.    Shad 
owy  they  might  be  in  the  darkness,  almost  noise- 

'      199 


200    THE  NINE  8 WORDS  OF  MORALES 

less  in  their  movements,  but  to  those  who  had 
eyes  to  see,  they  were  an  athletic  brood  of  spec 
ters,  strangely  human  for  creatures  of  the  night 
and  the  imagination.  Some,  indeed,  shielded  their 
sinewy  limbs  and  stalwart  frames  from  the  wintry 
air  with  little  else  save  leggings  and  moccasins 
and  their  flowing  black  hair;  others  there  were 
muffled  in  ponchos  and  sombreros.  Now  and  again 
from  one  of  these  there  came  a  faint  clink  that 
seemed  to  tell  of  steel  against  steel.  And  one  by 
one,  in  groups  of  two  or  three,  then  in  larger  com 
panies,  the  ghosts  moved  slowly  nearer  and  near 
er,  but  silently  still,  to  the  walls  of  the  casa. 


"Answer,  my  child,"  said  the  priest  gently. 

But  the  girl  did  not  speak;  indeed  she  did  not 
seem  to  hear. 

The  groom  had  made  his  responses  proudly, 
confidently,  with  a  certain  masterfulness  of  voice 
and  demeanor  which  had  served  to  accentuate  to 
the  last  degree  the  shrinking,  almost  fearful,  tim 
idity  which  had  been  visible  in  every  look,  every 
movement  of  the  white-faced  bride  since  the  mo 
ment  her  father  had  led  her  to  her  place  before 
the  improvised  altar.  She  had  shuddered  when 
the  service  began;  as  it  proceeded  she  seemed  to 
lose  herself  in  a  dull  stupor  amid  which  the  words 
that  were  spoken  fell  upon  her  ears,  indeed,  but 
with  no  meaning.  For  a  few  moments  it  had  not 
been  her  place  to  speak,  and  there  were  those 
watching  who  deemed  it  no  disadvantage  that  she 
should  not  seem  to  note  the  progress  of  the  cere- 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    201 

mony.     But  now  there  were  words  that  must  be 
spoken. 

"Answer,  my  child,"  said  the  priest  again,  his 
voice  soothing  and  low  and  in  his  dark  eyes  some 
thing  that  seemed  like  pity. 

She  heard  him  now,  and  with  a  sudden  shudder 
lifted  her  white  face,  and  her  glance  met  his. 
She  saw  the  feeling  in  his  eyes,  but  she  saw,  too, 
that  there  was  nothing  there  of  what  she  hoped 
for — only  sympathy,  encouragement,  and  gentle, 
wordless  urging  that  she  should  tread  the  path 
upon  which  her  feet  had  entered.  Her  lips  trem 
bled,  seeking  to  form  the  words  for  which  they 
waited. 

And  then,  as  her  eyes  faltered  from  his  own, 
they  fell  upon  the  window  before  which  he  stood— 
and,  from  the  midst  of  the  black  darkness  without 
and  fdr  beyond,  suddenly  flamed  an  instantaneous 
flash  of  fire,  extinguished  even  as  it  was  seen. 

And  the  bride,  with  a  gasping,  inarticulate  cry, 
sank,  fainting  and  whiter  than  her  robes,  upon  the 
rug  at  her  feet. 

The  priest  bent  forward  with  a  word  of  sur 
prise  and  pity,  her  father  and  her  sister  together 
hurried  to  her  side,  while  the  bridegroom,  alarmed, 
yet  frowning  as  if  in  vexation  or  impatience,  also 
sought  to  lend  his  aid.  But  Yda,  whose  faint  had 
lasted  but  a  few  seconds,  turned  from  them  all  as 
she  rose,  trembling,  to  her  knees,  to  gaze  again 
and  with  wide-open  eyes  to  the  darkness  without 
the  window. 

"Did  you  not  see?  Oh,  tell  me,  did  you  not 
see!"  she  whispered  faintly,  yet  excitedly,  her 


202    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

lips  quivering  and  her  white  arms  extended  al 
most  convulsively  before  her. 

"See — see  what?"  demanded  the  younger  Gon- 
zales  with  an  abruptness  which  seemed  brutal  in 
one  so  near  a  bridegroom,  while  his  elder  brother 
stared  fixedly  through  the  dark  window  with  eyes 
of  gloomy  question. 

' t  What  should  we  see,  Donna  Yda  ? ' '  asked  San- 
cho  Gonzales  again,  more  gently  now,  and  seeking 
to  take  her  hand  in  his. 

But  the  girl,  into  whose  face  had  suddenly  come 
a  look  of  piteous  confusion,  gave  him  no  answer, 
but  after  one  more  lingering,  bewildered  glance 
through  the  dark  window  beyond,  where  was  now 
only  the  still  blackness  of  the  December  night, 
dropped  her  eyes  to  the  foot  of  the  altar  with  in 
her  mind  but  one  despairing  thought : 

"It  is  only  that  I  am  mad — only  that!" 

' i  Shall  we  go  on,  Donna  Yda  1 ' '  said  the  priest, 
with  yet  more  than  his  former  gentleness. 

She  bowed  her  head. 

"Your  answer  then,  my  daughter?" 

But  the  bridegroom  now  interrupted  with  a 
sudden,  frantic  cry: 

6  i  Look,  look ! ' '  and  it  was  he  who  pointed  to  the 
window. 

Against  the  lattice  bars  was  pressed  a  wild, 
dark  face,  strangely  bearded  and  stern,  with  eyes 
that  glittered  fiercely  under  bristling,  overhang 
ing  brows.  Only  for  an  instant  did  those  within 
the  room  meet  their  piercing  gaze.  Then  the 
grim  face  drew  back  into  the  blackness. 

But   there    followed,    and   at    once,    a    sudden 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    203 

bursting  in  of  doors,  a  thunderous  sound  as  of 
numberless  rushing  feet,  the  startled  cries  of 
frightened  servants  everywhere  about  the  house, 
and  then,  in  through  the  great  doorway  of  the 
main  room,  swept  a  dark,  indistinct  mass,  amid 
which,  for  one  second,  the  gazers  caught  the 
dusky  gleam  of  spears.  But  instantaneously  with 
the  bursting  in  of  the  wide  door  came  a  great  rush 
of  wintry  air  from  without.  At  once  every  candle 
was  extinguished,  plunging  the  room  in  darkness. 

But  in  the  black  gloom  still  sounded  the  rustle 
of  feet,  the  deep  breathings  of  angry  or  excited 
men,  and  suddenly,  at  Yda's  side,  rang  out  a 
sharp  cry  of  wild  anger,  muffled  before  it  was  half 
uttered  and  succeeded  by  sounds  of  a  short,  fierce 
struggle.  In  a  moment  it  ended,  but  the  hurrying 
footsteps  still  sounded  in  the  room,  though  no 
longer,  as  it  seemed,  in  the  near  neighborhood  of 
the  altar.  Then  silence  fell  again,  sudden  and 
complete,  and  amid  it,  after  a  moment,  sounded  a 
calm  voice,  familiar  to  some  who  heard,  yet  seem 
ing  to  recall  rather  a  memory  of  the  past  than  a 
fact  of  the  present : 

"Repeat  the  ceremony,  good  father;  begin  at 
the  beginning." 

The  priest  started,  gazing  blankly  about  him 
in  the  darkness. 

"What  mystery  is  this?"  he  said  at  last. 
"Bring  lights." 

"It  is  better  as  it  is,  good  father,"  said  the 
calm  voice  again.  "Proceed." 

"No,"  said  the  priest  resolutely.  "I  am  no 
man's  tool.  I  will  do  nothing  blindly." 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

"My  word  as  a  man  and  a  caballero,  father, 
that  this  is  done  in  all  honor  and  justice.  And 
there  are  other  witnesses  beside.  Is  it  not  so, 
brothers  ? ' ' 

And  it  seemed  that  half  a  score  of  voices  an 
swered  at  once  in  the  dark  room. 

"Yes,  we  are  all  witnesses." 

Still  the  good  priest  hesitated,  loth  to  act  so 
strangely,  yet  deeply  swayed  despite  himself  with 
an  impression  that  this  which  he  had  been  bidden 
to  do  was  indeed  his  duty.  And  while  he  yet  hes 
itated,  to  his  inexpressible  delight  there  sounded 
from  the  darkness  beside  him  the  soft  voice  of 
Yda,  tremulous  and  faltering,  but,  if  he  knew 
anything  of  human  emotion,  full  of  happiness : 

"If  it  is  for  me  you  fear,  father,  all  is  well — 
now." 

For  while  she  spoke,  though  none  might  see, 
loving  arms  whose  touch  she  knew,  even  in  that 
darkness,  held  her  closely — closely,  but  so  ten 
derly,  loving  lips  were  pressed  upon  her  cheek, 
and  in  her  ear,  so  low  that  none  but  she  might 
hear,  were  whispered  passionate  words : 

"Mi  querida!  Oh,  mi  querida!  Love  of  my 
heart,  it  is  not  too  late." 

And  the  priest  hesitated  no  longer. 

"Wilt  thou— " 

But  again  he  paused,  helpless  and  bewildered. 

"Francisco  is  the  name,  father,"  said  the  same 
calm  voice  which  had  before  spoken. 

"Wilt  thou,  Francisco,"  began  the  priest  once 
more,  and  now,  with  no  further  interruption,  con 
tinuing  the  services,  hastily  but  fervently,  to  the 


THE  NINE  "SWORDS  OF  MORALES    205 

end,  bewildered  still,  but  confident  and  grateful  in 
his  kindly  heart  that  a  threatened  wrong  had 
somehow  not  been  done  and  that  he,  walking  in 
blindness  though  he  might  be,  was  yet  being  made 
the  instrument  of  right  and  happiness. 

"Let  us  have  the  lights  again,"  said  the  quiet, 
directing  voice  when  the  final  words  had  been 
spoken,  and  it  seemed  but  an  instant  before  from 
somewhere  in  the  background  came  a  flickering 
spark  which  passed  swiftly  from  hand  to  hand 
and  candle  to  candle  until  once  more  the  long 
room  was  flooded  with  light. 

Of  the  confusion  which  had  seemed  to  reign  but 
a  few  moments  before  there  remained  no  trace 
now.  The  crowding  throng  of  dark-faced  intrud 
ers  was  there  no  longer.  But  Carlos  Morales  and 
his  eight  stalwart  brothers  stood  in  a  quiet  group 
near  where  the  white-faced  bride,  trembling,  tear 
ful,  but  smiling  in  bewildered  joy,  clung  to  the 
sustaining  arm  of  the  bridegroom — and  that 
bridegroom  was  Herrera. 

There  were  dark  shadows  under  his  eyes,  hol 
lows  in  his  once  firm  cheeks,  and  other  signs  which 
spoke  of  long  illness  that  had  brought  him  near 
unto  death — but  it  was  still  Herrera,  and  in  the 
happiness  that  glowed  upon  his  face  it  seemed 
transfigured. 

Ramon  Gonzales  gazed  with  gloomy  eyes  upon 
these  sudden  guests  of  the  darkness,  though  lie 
seemed  to  feel  no  surprise.  But  in  a  moment, 
when  his  glance  had  swept  slowly  over  the  faces 
before  him,  he  moved,  frowning,  a  step  nearer 
Carlos  Morales  and  demanded  hoarsely: 


206    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

" Where  is  my  brother?" 

Carlos  glanced  silently  out  through  the  window 
and  lifted  his  hand.  While  they  listened,  obeying 
his  half-unconscious  movement,  from  the  night 
without  seemed  to  come  a  sullen  thunder  of  num 
berless  hoofs,  already  faint  and  dying  away  in 
the  distance. 

"I  do  not  think  you  need  fear  harm  for  him, 
Senor,"  said  Carlos  quietly.  "Even  attempts  at 
midnight  murder  may  be  forgiven  at  times — 
when  they  fail." 

"I  understand  you,  Senor,"  said  Gonzales  with 
equal  calmness,  "and  you  do  me  wrong.  But  let 
that  pass.  Twice  now  we  have  met  and  twice  it 
has  been  to  my  humiliation.  But — there  comes  a 
third  day." 

He  moved  toward  the  door,  but  the  voice  of 
Rivas  arrested  him. 

"Let  there  be  peace,  Gonzales,"  he  said.  "I 
grow  old.  Must  my  children  fall  from  me  and 
from  each  other  through  this  feud?  Let  it  end." 

"Aye,  let  it  end — for  you,  Don  Pedro,"  said 
Gonzales  quietly.  "For  me — not  yet." 

He  passed  from  the  room  and  the  door  closed 
after  him. 

And  then  Pancha — Pancha  the  beautiful,  the 
cold-hearted — rose  in  her  place  and  came  swiftly 
forward.  No  look  or  word  she  gave  Herrera,  but 
flung  her  arms  about  Yda  and  for  one  second  held 
her  close  in  an  embrace  that  could  mean  no  mock- 
ery  of  love. 

"Yda,  Yda!"  she  whispered,  "I  am  glad,  so 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    207 

glad  for  you,  Hermanita,  little  sister  of  iny 
heart!" 

But  even  as  Yda*  sought  to  return  her  kisses, 
she  drew  herself  away  and  hurried  from  the  room. 

There  was  one  who  followed,  less  swiftly,  but 
with  her  beautiful  head  held  high,  and  eyes  which 
turned  haughtily  away  from  all  others  within  the 
room — Juanita,  sole  sister  of  the  Gonzales,  little 
more  than  a  child  as  yet,  but  lacking  nothing  in 
pride.  Young  Diego  Morales,  a  swift  smile  light 
ing  his  boyishly  handsome  face,  stepped,  bowing, 
before  her,  and  held  open  the  door.  But  the  girl 
passed  through  without  a  turn  of  the  head  or  so 
much  as  a  glance  in  acknowledgment  of  his  cour 
tesy. 

The  smile  deepened  on  Diego 's  face,  but  for  an 
instant  only;  then,  as  his  gaze  still  followed  the 
graceful  figure,  into  his  frank  eyes  came  a 
strange,  glowing  look  that  seemed  to  speak  of 
something  that  was  neither  mirth  nor  anger.  He 
turned  to  find  the  gaze  of  Carlos  and  the  kindly 
priest  fixed  upon  him.  His  eyes  sank  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  the  bronze  of  his  firm  young  cheek  was 
tinged  a  deeper  hue. 

" Leave  them  to  God — and  time,"  said  the 
priest.  "To-morrow  comes  Christ's  day,  and  all 
its  promise  is  of  peace." 


But  as  that  gay  wedding-party  rode  northward 
the  next  day  there  crossed  the  path  something 
that  did  not  speak  of  peace.  It  was  a  riderless 
horse,  still  saddled  and  bridled,  but  with  that  in 


208    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

the  appearance  of  the  rude  equipments  which 
seemed  to  suggest  that  he  who  had  lately  ridden 
the  animal  had  not  willingly  left  his  seat,  Carlos, 
riding  at  the  moment  far  in  the  lead  of  his  caval 
cade,  with  but  a  single  companion,  checked  his  own 
steed  and  bent  his  keen  eyes  upon  the  rough-haired 
estray  and  its  makeshift  caparison. 

"  Pepe's  horse, "  he  said,  after  a  moment's  scru 
tiny.  "But  where  is  Pepe?" 

"He  has  been  thrown,  perhaps, "  suggested 
Diego,  youngest  of  The  Nine. 

But  Carlos  shook  his  head. 

"No.  In  his  own  awkward  fashion  there  is  no 
better  rider.  Then,  too,  he  would  have  followed 
the  horse." 

Diego  rose  in  the  saddle  and  swept  a  searching 
glance  widely  about  him. 

"Nothing!"  he  said.     "You  fear— " 

Carlos  nodded  gravely.  "Yes,  there  is  more 
than  accident  in  this.  The  boy  has  been  too  good 
a  friend  to  us  and  ours.  But  say  nothing  to  the 
others. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

HOW    PEPE    THE    INDIAN,    FRIEND    OF    THE    MORALES, 

BECAUSE  OF  THAT  FRIENDSHIP  CAME 

UPON    EVIL  FORTUNE 


RESTING  the  summit  of  a  low-lying  knoll, 
\J  almost  within  the  confines  of  what  is  now  the 
city  of  Santa  Rosa,  there  stood  in  the  olden  time, 
as  there  stands  to-day,  a  great  oak.  Famed  among 
the  first  of  the  Spanish  settlers  because  of  its  giant 
size,  in  latter  though  still  early  years  it  was  to  win 
grim  place  in  history  as  the  landmark  of  the  one 
dark  tragedy  of  the  "Bear  Flag  Insurrection.  " 
Beneath  its  great  limbs  Cowie  and  Fowler  died, 
victims  of  their  own  daring  and  the  unleashed  fe 
rocity  of  their  leaderless  foes.  But  that  day  of 
racial  hate,  short-lived  as  it  was  savage,  was  yet 
far  in  the  future  when,  beneath  those  same  spread 
ing  branches,  Pepe's  captors  flung  down  the  stolid 
Indian  boy,  bound  and  helpless,  to  await  what 
further  expression  of  their  ill-will  might  yet  be  in 
store  for  him.  Cowie  and  Fowler,  and  the  terrible 
fate  to  be  dealt  out  to  them  there,  were  yet  un 
dreamed  of,  but  those  who  now  proposed  making 
the  spot  the  theater  of  their  vengeful  malicious 
ness  were  in  need  of  no  example  to  urge  them  on. 
Pepe  knew  them,  one  and  all,  as  the  worst  of 

209 


210    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

the  half  outlaw  supporters  of  the  Gonzales — the 
scum,  indeed,  of  a  following  the  best  of  which  had 
little  claim  to  commendation.  These  men  had 
been  rather  the  satellites  of  the  younger  than  of 
the  elder  leader  of  their  faction,  for  to  Sancho 
Gonzales,  because  of  his  own  evident  disposition, 
had  naturally  gravitated  the  worst  of  those  who 
supported  his  own  and  his  brother's  quarrel. 
With  him  to  direct  and,  in  a  measure,  to  control 
their  viciousness,  they  were  bad  enough.  With 
out  him  they  had  shown  themselves  on  more  than 
one  occasion  veritable  Children  of  the  Pit.  And 
they  were  without  their  leader  now. 

All  this,  and  what  it  meant  to  himself,  was  work 
ing  slowly  but  surely  into  Pepe's  sluggish  brain 
as  his  captors  rudely  flung  him  down  in  a  sitting 
posture  by  the  great  tree-trunk,  and  bound  him 
securely  against  its  gnarled  bark  with  fold  after 
fold  of  plaited  rawhide  and  horsehair.  To  do  this 
to  their  satisfaction  they  knotted  a  lariat  and  a 
riata  together  at  the  ends,  and  then  a  pair  of  the 
miscreants,  with  brutal  jest  and  laughter,  ran 
around  and  around  the  tree-trunk  in  opposite  di 
rections,  each  holding  the  cord,  until  there  was 
no  longer  enough  of  it  left  to  allow  of  another  cir 
cuit.  Then,  with  a  final  tug  at  the  two  ends,  which 
resulted  in  almost  crushing  in  the  ribs  of  the  al 
ready  half  choked  and  breathless  captive,  they 
knotted  what  was  left  unwound  securely  at  the 
further  side  of  the  tree,  and  far  beyond  reach  of 
Pepe  's  hands,  even  had  the  latter  not  been  bound. 
This  seemed  likely  to  matter  little,  however,  since, 
cruelly  crushed  as  he  was  by  the  tightly  drawn 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    211 

cord,  it  was  not  probable  that  sufficient  life  would 
long  remain  in  him  even  for  the  thought  of  escape, 
to  say  nothing  of  an  attempt  to  effect  it. 

Pepe  bore  the  torment  he  was  suffering  with 
the  calm  stoicism  of  his  race,  uttering  no  word  and 
making  no  attempt  to  find  ever  so  little  relief  from 
the  pressure  of  his  bonds.  Without  doubt  he 
would  have  died  so,  speechless  and  uncomplaining, 
had  no  hand  been  raised  in  his  aid. 

But  it  was  no  part  of  his  captors'  purpose  that 
he  should  die — not  yet — and  one  or  two  of  them 
seemed  suddenly  to  realize  that  unless  some  mod 
eration  were  used  they  were  likely  to  lose  some 
thing  of  the  completeness  of  their  vengeance.  So 
with  rough,  unkindly  hands  they  tugged  at  the 
rope  where  it  crossed  and  recrossed  Pepe's 
breast,  and  so  loosened  the  coils  that  he  was  en 
abled  to  breathe,  if  not  with  comfort,  at  least  with 
tolerable  ease.  Then,  with  a  curse  or  two  by  way 
of  temporary  farewell,  they  left  him  to  his  medi 
tations  and  went  to  their  camp-fire. 

This  was  but  a  few  rods  away,  and  had  been 
kindled  by  some  of  their  number  on  their  first  ap 
proach  to  the  spot  and  while  the  majority  of  the 
band  were  grouped  about  Pepe.  Located  as  it 
was,  it  placed  them  in  a  measure  beyond  ear-shot 
of  their  captive,  while  at  the  same  time  leaving  him 
in  sufficiently  plain  view  for  them  to  keep  what 
could  easily  be  made  a  constant  watch  upon  him 
without  the  necessity  for  placing  a  special  guard 
— a  point  which,  with  men  as  indolent  even  in  ill- 
doing  as  these,  was  of  importance. 
Pepe,  sitting  stolidly  in  his  bonds,  realized  that 


212    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

his  time  had  come.  The  fact  had  been  slow  in 
forcing  itself  into  his  sluggish  brain,  but  once  there 
it  did  not  fail  to  be  fully  accepted  and  understood 
in  all  its  grimness.  He  found  it  difficult  to  under 
stand  even  now  how  and  why  it  was  that  such  a 
fate  should  come  to  him  thus,  but  that  it  con 
fronted  him  in  fatal  certainty  he  no  longer  ques 
tioned.  Humble  as  the  lowliest,  he  had  yet  played 
his  part  in  a  stirring  quarrel,  but  now  that  part 
was  ending.  Even  to  his  ordinarily  unquestioning 
mind  it  had  seemed  a  little  unfair  at  first  that 
he,  among  so  many,  should  be  singled  out  as  the 
special  object  of  so  signal  a  vengeance  as  every 
thing  went  to  show  was  meditated  against  him. 
True,  he  realized,  and  with  a  sort  of  dull  pride, 
that  it  had  more  than  once  fallen  to  his  lot  to  foil, 
in  a  measure  at  least,  some  of  the  plotting  of  the 
Gonzales  faction,  but  he  knew,  too,  how  much  more 
effective  work  to  the  same  end  had  been  done  by 
others.  And  these  others  were  men  of  such  known 
prominence  and  importance  that  even  to  Pepe  it 
seemed  that  vengeance  upon  them  rather  than  on 
one  so  humble  as  himself  would  have  better  be 
come  men  who  claimed  to  be  such  in  something 
more  than  in  name. 

Some  dim  idea  of  the  unfairness  of  it  all  worked 
slowly  through  the  Indian  boy's  mind,  but  he  gave 
it  no  encouragement  to  linger  there.  He  felt  that 
he  was  to  die,  and,  since  that  was  certain,  to  worry 
about  the  cause  seemed  a  mere  waste  of  time.  He 
thought  little,  indeed,  upon  the  life  he  was  leaving, 
though  it  had  been  happy  enough  in  its  way,  and 
it  is  to  be  feared  he  dwelt  almost  as  slightly  on 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    213 

the  life  that  was  to  follow.  Yet  Pepe  ranked  as  a 
Christian,  in  name  at  least,  and  really  had  been  a 
believer  in  his  way  in  the  chief  and  simpler  facts  of 
the  religion  of  the  Nazarene.  His  idea  of  the 
Hereafter  was  a  somewhat  misty  compound  of  the 
happy  hunting-grounds  of  his  fathers'  belief  and 
the  City  with  the  Gates  of  Pearl,  of  which  he  had 
heard  from  kindly  Spanish  padres  at  long  inter 
vals  during  his  careless,  unreflecting  life.  He  did 
not  doubt,  in  his  simply  confident  soul,  that  he 
would  fare  well  in  the  Hereafter,  but  how  he 
should  reach  it  was  a  point  which  at  that  moment 
seemed  to  him  of  much  greater  importance. 

And  as  if  in  answer  to  his  unspoken  question, 
almost  at  this  moment  one  of  his  captors  left  his 
seat  by  the  camp-fire  and  strolled  carelessly  toward 
the  bound  figure  at  the  tree-trunk.  It  was  Pablo 
Estrada,  already  fixed  upon  in  Pepe's  mind,  and 
correctly,  as  the  leader  of  his  captors. 

He  stood  looking  at  the  stolid  form  before  him, 
and  Pepe  noted  that  his  lips  were  drawn  away 
from  his  white  teeth  in  a  way  that  suggested  a 
wolf  about  to  seize  his  prey.  But  the  man  made 
no  move  that  hinted  at  violence,  and  his  tone,  when 
he  spoke,  was  such  as  he  might  have  employed  in 
making  a  casual  observation  to  a  friend. 

"Pepe,"  he  said,  "when  next  we  are  betrayed 
it  will  be  by  some  one  other  than  you,  mi  mucha- 
cho.  You  see  that  rope  across  your  chest — I  mean 
the  riata.  When  we  have  had  our  supper  we  will 
place  it  around  your  neck  and  hang  you  to  that 
limb  above  you  there.  That  is  all  for  the  present, 
mi  hombre." 


214     THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

He  swaggered  away  without  waiting  for  an  an 
swer,  which  he  probably  thought  would  be  long  in 
coming — and,  indeed,  it  did  not  occur  to  Pepe 
that  any  was  required.  What  he  had  been  told 
was  no  surprise  to  him  and  had  given  him  no 
shock.  He  had  realized  from  the  moment  when 
he  rode  heedlessly  into  the  hands  of  these  men 
that  he  was  in  the  power  of  those  who,  rightly  or 
wrongly,  had  come  to  regard  him  as  an  important 
factor  in  the  successes  of  the  foes  of  their  leaders. 
He  had  not,  it  is  true,  thought  that  Ramon  Gon- 
zales,  or  even  his  fiercer  brother,  would  go  so  far 
as  to  take  his  life,  but  when  he  discovered  that 
neither  of  the  two  was  with  his  captors,  and  that 
the  latter  included  only  the  very  worst  of  their 
leaders'  party,  he  had  known  at  once  that  he  need 
look  for  no  mercy. 

To  be  told  in  plain  words  what  his  doom  was  to 
be,  therefore,  gave  him  no  shock — indeed,  when  he 
came  fully  to  realize  the  exact  meaning  of  what 
had  been  said  to  him,  he  was  conscious  of  a  slight 
sense  of  relief.  It  was  not  that  he  had  feared  a 
harder  death — though  he  knew  of  whispered  tales 
of  half-hidden  atrocities  with  which  the  names  of 
some  at  least  of  these  same  men  had  been  con 
nected  that  might  have  given  him  cause  for 
thought.  Brought  up  in  great  measure,  as  he  had 
been,  among  whites,  his  Indian  nature  had  re 
mained  sufficiently  strong  to  make  him  careless  of 
personal  suffering,  but,  now  that  all  doubt  as  to  his 
fate  was  removed,  he  became  conscious  that,  while 
it  existed,  the  uncertainty  as  to  what  confronted 
him  had  caused  him  at  least  a  slight  measure  of 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    215 

uneasiness.  It  was  settled  now,  the  last  scene  of 
all  was  not  far  off — and  it  was  almost  with  a  sigh 
of  relief  that  Pepe  sank  back  as  comfortably  as 
might  be  in  his  bonds,  prepared  to  wait  in  patience 
for  the  end. 

And  then,  as  he  was  gradually  passing  into  such 
a  state  of  complete  quietude  as  promised  soon,  de 
spite  what  he  knew  to  be  before  him,  to  change  in 
sensibly  into  slumber,  a  low  voice  whispered, 
almost  at  his  ear : 

"Pepe!" 


CHAPTEE  XXIX 

A   FRIEND   IN   NEED   FOR   PEPE    THE   FAITHFUL,   AND   A 
SURPRISE  FOR  THE  CAMP  OF  HIS  FOES 

A  NOTHEE  man  than  Pepe  might  have  uttered 
JIJL  a  cry,  have  given  some  sign  at  least,  in  his 
sudden  amaze,  that  must  have  meant  the  crushing 
at  once  of  the  hope  so  strangely  born.  Perhaps 
the  unknown  in  the  covert  behind  the  great  tree- 
trunk  realized  this. 

"Pepe,"  the  low  voice  said  again,  "attend — 
but  do  not  move." 

The  words  came  quickly,  as  if  he  who  uttered 
them  feared  the  result  of  a  sudden  motion  on  the 
part  of  the  prisoner,  should  it  be  noted  by  his  cap 
tors.  But  the  warning  was  needless.  For  one 
thing,  the  tightness  of  the  cords,  two  of  which 
passed  across  Pepe's  neck,  made  it  so;  for  an 
other,  never  since  his  earliest  childhood  had  he 
known  impulse  or  emotion  sufficiently  strong  to 
cause  a  movement  of  sudden  unpremeditation.  It 
is  to  be  doubted,  indeed,  if  any  question,  even 
though  one  of  life  or  death,  could  have  had  such  an 
effect.  So,  in  unmoved  stolidity,  he  kept  his  posi 
tion  against  the  rough  bark  of  the  oak  unchanged 
by  even  the  slightest  effort  to  alter  it — and  waited. 

And   then,   one   moment  later,   Pepe   felt   the 

216 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    217 

loosening  of  his  bonds  as  cord  after  cord  yielded 
to  the  knife  of  his  rescuer,  but  a  graven  image 
could  scarcely  have  shown  less  movement. 
Presently  the  last  strand  of  the  rough  horsehair 
riata  fell  from  his  throat  and  lay  loose  with  the 
rest  across  his  lap. 

He  drew  one  long,  deep  breath,  but  otherwise 
moved  not. 

A  moment  dragged  slowly  by,  while  Pepe  still 
sat  without  motion  against  the  tree-trunk,  his 
bound  hands  in  his  lap,  his  head  sunk  upon  his 
chest.  Then  once  more  he  heard  the  voice  which 
meant  so  much  to  him : 

"Are  you  ready  now?" 

"Ready,  Senor." 

"Push  the  ropes  below  your  knees — No,  no! 
Wait!" 

The  warning  came  not  too  soon.  A  brutal 
laugh  sounded  from  the  group  about  the  camp- 
fire,  and  following  it  some  one  called  the  captive 's 
name: 

"Pepe!" 

The  Indian  did  not  answer,  but  he  lifted  his 
head  a  trifle,  and  glanced  toward  his  captors  as  if 
to  show  that  he  had  heard. 

"Answer,  you  black  dog!"  shouted  the  same 
voice.  * l  Do  you  hear  me  ? ' ' 

"Answer,"  whispered  the  voice  behind  the  tree, 
and  "Yes,  Senor,"  said  Pepe,  with  a  sullenness 
which  served  only  to  excite  more  jarring  laughter 
from  the  group  at  the  fire — laughter  which  prob 
ably  would  scarcely  have  been  so  ready  could  those 
indulging  in  it  have  known  the  real  depth  and 


218    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

strength  of  the  hate  and  fury  which  the  muttered 
words  gave  so  little  hint  of.  Then  his  rude  ac- 
coster  spoke  again,  quietly  now,  but  with  a  ma 
levolence  of  accent  indescribable: 

"It  is  time  for  supper,  Pepe — your  last  supper, 
muchacho!  I  will  bring  it  to  you.'7 

Pepe  scarcely  heard  the  new  burst  of  laughter 
which  accompanied  this  speech.  For  once,  though 
no  one  could  have  noted  the  faintest  change  in 
his  dark  face,  his  heart  seemed  to  stand  still.  It 
was  no  renewed  dread  of  death,  rather  simple 
amazement  that  such  a  fatal  chance  as  this 
could  be. 

But  a  warning  whisper  came  quickly  from  be 
hind  the  great  oak: 

' '  Sit  still !    Wait  for  my  word. ' ' 

Already  Pablo  Estrada,  for  it  was  the  brutal 
leader  of  the  party  who  had  spoken,  was  swiftly 
approaching,  bearing  something  in  his  hands. 
Pepe,  his  nerves  for  once  quivering  in  his  tough 
ened  frame,  was  waiting  for  the  word  that  should 
bid  him — do  what  ?  Then,  but  a  yard  or  two  from 
the  captive's  feet,  Estrada  paused — and  Pepe 
wondered  that  he  did  not  cry  out,  for  it  seemed  im 
possible,  even  in  the  obscurity  of  the  late  dusk, 
that  he  should  not  see  that  the  cords  were  not  as 
they  should  be,  but  lying  in  a  loosened  mass  across 
the  lap  of  the  captive. 

But  Pablo  seemed  not  to  notice — perhaps  it  was 
the  immediate  purpose  in  his  mind  that  made  him 
careless.  Still  standing  a  yard  or  more  from 
Pepe's  feet,  he  spoke  again — and  even  the  Indian 
marvelled  at  the  friendly  softness  of  his  tones : 


.  t, 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    219 

Are  you  sure  you  can  eat  your  supper,  Pepe?" 
Yes,  Senor,"  answered  the  captive,  no  hint  in 
stolid  voice  or  look  of  what  thoughts  were  in  his 
mind. 

"Then  eat  it,"  said  the  tormentor,  placing  the 
tortillas  he  carried  upon  the  ground,  only  a  yard 
from  the  captive's  feet,  but  as  absolutely  beyond 
his  reach,  to  the  mind  of  his  captor,  as  if  they  had 
been  miles  away. 

Then  Pablo  turned  about  and  walked,  laughing 
aloud,  back  to  the  camp-fire — and  Pepe  heard, 
close  at  hand,  something  which  seemed  to  suggest 
a  respiration,  full  and  deep,  such  as  one  might 
draw  after  having  for  a  moment  forgotten  to 
breathe. 

Pablo's  comrades  about  the  fire  joined  in  his 
hilarity  over  his  excellent  jest,  but  Pepe  gave  no 
sign  that  he  heard  or  cared,  and  the  merriment 
soon  died  away.  For  jesters  such  as  these  a  joke 
which  seemed  to  produce  no  effect  upon  the  in 
tended  victim  was  not  entirely  successful — and  a 
moment  more  saw  his  captors  give  over  the  expres 
sion  of  their  mirth  and  turn  to  their  rough  meal. 

With  a  movement  of  his  bound  hands,  Pepe 
threw  the  loosened  cords  below  his  knees.  An 
other  motion,  and  his  feet  were  free.  Then,  the 
natural  craft  of  his  race  coming  to  his  aid  in  his 
need,  he  had  the  thought  to  sink  back  into  his  old 
position  of  rigid  quiet — and  just  in  time.  For  the 
next  instant,  as  if  with  a  half  mechanical  impulse, 
the  leader  of  his  captors  turned  partially  as  he 
ate  and  flung  a  careless  but  searching  glance  at  the 
prisoner.  He  saw  nothing  to  excite  suspicion — 


220    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

but  had  he  looked  again,  a  second  later,  he  would 
have  gazed  on  vacant  bonds.  Only  for  a  moment. 
Another — and,  to  all  appearance,  the  captive  still 
held  his  place. 

One,  two,  three  moments  passed — and  then, 
sharp  and  clear  in  the  calm  night  air,  sounded  the 
yelp  of  a  coyote  from  the  willow-fringed  arroyo  in 
the  hollow  behind  the  knoll. 

The  man  beneath  the  tree  drew  a  long  breath, 
then  checked  himself  hastily,  as  he  saw  that  Pablo 
Estrada  had  ceased  munching  the  food  he  held  and 
sat  now  in  an  attitude  of  strained  attention,  as  if 
waiting  for  a  repetition  of  the  sound  that  had  in 
terrupted  his  feast.  Had  his  ears  been  keen 
enough  to  detect  that  it  was  not  altogether  what 
it  seemed!  * 

Then  at  last  Pablo's  gaze  was  turned  full  upon 
the  figure  beneath  the  great  oak — and  almost  in 
stantly  he  leaped  erect  with  a  cry. 

"Diablo!"  he  screamed;  "what  wizard  work  is 
this!" 


CHAPTER  XXX 

IN    WHICH    PEPE'S    CAPTORS    FIND    THEMSELVES 

POSSESSED  OF  ANOTHER  AND  MUCH  MORE 

TROUBLESOME  PRISONER 

IN  AN  instant  all  Pablo's  comrades  were  on 
their  feet,  staring  in  blank  amazement;  an 
other  second,  and  they  were  rushing  in  a  body  to 
the  spot  where,  apparently,  the  captive  still  sat, 
silent  and  motionless. 

But  when  they  had  reached  the  tree,  with  their 
flaming  brands,  snatched  hastily  from  the  camp- 
fire,  it  was  to  find  facing  them,  erect,  his  back 
against  the  broad  trunk  and  his  hand  at  his  armed 
belt,  not  the  humble  if  stubborn  Indian  of  a  few 
moments  before,  but  a  calm  and  imperturbable 
Morales,  in  whose  air  and  attitude,  and  in  the 
tones  of  whose  voice,  was  mocking  raillery  almost 
unendurable. 

' '  Senors, ' '  said  Carlos,  ' '  I  salute  you.  We  have 
met  before,  I  think.  You  doubtless  remember  the 
occasion — certainly  you  had  abundant  reason — 
so  I  need  not  introduce  myself.  But  you  seem 
surprised  that  I  should  have  intruded  upon  you 
so  unceremoniously — or  is  it  that  you  looked  for 
some  one  else  to  be  taking  his  ease  here  rather 
than  I  ?  Ah,  doubtless  it  is  my  friend  Pepe,  the  In- 

221 


12:22    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

dian,  of  whom  you  are  thinking.  He,  you  will 
possibly  be  annoyed  to  learn,  is  far  away  by  now. 
However,  Pepe  is  an  honest  Indian — though,  per 
haps,  that  is  not  much  of  a  recommendation  in  the 
present  company — and  he  has  left  you  your  lariat 
and  riata.  See! — here  they  lie.  I  regret  to  ob 
serve  that  they  seem  to  be  in  rather  bad  shape,  but 
doubtless  they  may  be  repaired.  In  any  case  there 
4  seems  little  chance  of  their  being  required  for  the 
kindly  purpose  which  you,  Senor  Pablo,  so  lately 
spoke  of  putting  them  to.  True,  Pepe,  though  dis 
tant,  is  still  within  hearing — I  think  those  are  his 
hoof-beats  now  sounding  so  faintly — but  it  is  my 
horse  he  is  riding,  and  that  means  that  we  will  not 
hear  him  long. ' ' 

Carlos  paused  for  breath,  and  Pablo,  his  face 
black  and  his  voice  calm  with  very  fury,  broke  in : 

"And  you — you,  of  all  men! — dare  to  tell  us, 
Senor,  that  you  have  done  this !  Dare  to  tell  us 
and  yet  hope — " 

"To  live  to  tell  it  again — and  to  others.  But, 
surely — Nay,  Senors,  let  me  urge  you  to  keep  back 
and  to  take  your  hands  from  your  weapons,  for 
the  present  at  least.  Do  not  be  hasty.  In  the  ex 
citement  of  the  moment  some  of  us  might  be  se 
riously  hurt.  Very  possibly  I  might  be  one  of  the 
unfortunates,  but  I  suggest,  in  all  good-fellowship, 
that  there  would  probably  be  others.  And  I  sup 
pose  a  bandit  is  no  more  ready  to  die  than  a  gen 
tleman.  You  observe  that  my  back  is  pretty  well 
guarded  by  this  good  tree,  so  you  must  attack  me 
in  front,  and  that,  I  understand,  is  somewhat 
against  your  principles.  Nay,  Senors,  let  me  urge 


THE  NINE  SWOBDS  OF  MORALES    223 

again  that  you  be  not  hasty !  I  was  about  to  add 
that  such  an  attack  is  likely  to  produce  inconven 
ient  results.  However,  in  your  cases,  these  are 
certain  to  follow  in  any  event. " 

"Results  such  as  what,  Senor?"  asked  Pablo, 
through  his  gritting  teeth,  restraining  his  com 
rades  with  a  gesture  as  if  he  would  fain  listen  to 
his  enemy's  flood  of  rasping  raillery  to  the  end. 

"Such  as  hanging,  for  example,"  said  Carlos 
coolly;  "hanging,  that  is,  for  those  who  are  unfor 
tunate  enough  not  to  be  killed  when  my  brethren 
and  my  friends  take  up  the  trail  of  my  mur 
derers — supposing  you  are  so  very  foolish  as  to 
become  such.  You  are  aware,  of  course,  that  Pepe 
will  furnish  them  all  your  names,  and  that  there 
will  not  be  land  enough  between  the  seas  to  hide 
you,  once  they  know. ' ' 

"Ah,  now  we  understand,  Seiior,"  sneered 
Pablo,  "to  what  all  this  brave  talk  has  been  tend 
ing.  A  threat — and  an  offer  to  kindly  spare  us  if 
we  are  willing  to  spare  you.  Is  not  that  it, 
Seiior?" 

Carlos  bowed  mockingly. 

"That — and  the  wish  to  give  Pepe  a  sufficient 
start,"  he  laughed.  "He  has  it  now,  I  think,  so 
there  is  no  harm  in  owning  what  you  have  in  your 
wisdom  discovered.  And  certainly  I  meant  my 
words  as  a  threat." 

"But  it  shall  not  avail  with  me!"  growled 
Pablo  fiercely,  moving  a  step  nearer.  But  in 
stantly  the  hand  of  one  of  his  comrades  was  on 
his  arm. 

"Nay,  but  it  is  all  true,"  he  said  remonstrating- 


224    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

]y.  "The  earth  would  not  hide  us  from  those 
Morales  dogs  if  we  killed  him — and  they  will  know 
us  all.  It  is  one  thing  to  hang  the  Indian,  Pepe; 
this  is  very  different. " 

Again  Carlos  made  his  mocking  bow,  never, 
however,  taking  his  eyes  from  his  foes  or  his  hand 
from  his  pistol. 

"I  fear,  Senor  Pablo,"  he  said  pleasantly, 
"that  all  the  wisdom  of  your  band  is  concentrated 
in  this,  your  follower.  You  should  resign  your 
leadership  to  him,  for  your  own  sake  as  well  as 
his." 

"Sneer  as  you  will,  Senor — for  the  moment," 
said  Pablo  sullenly,  "but  know  that  not  this  wise 
follower's  words  nor  your  threats  shall  make  me 
set  you  free. ' ' 

"We  need  not  do  that,"  eagerly  broke  in  the 
man  who  had  spoken  before.  "Let  us  take  him 
to  the  Casa  Gonzales.  Doubt  not  that  he  will  get 
his  desserts  there — Don  Ramon  has  a  black  book 
against  him — and  we  will  be  free  of  it  all.  Is  not 
that  best,  comrades!" 

The  dark  look  in  Pablo's  face  did  not  encourage 
his  followers  to  give  too  ready  an  assent,  but  he 
was  shrewd  enough  to  see  which  way  their 
opinions  lay.  Whether  or  not  they  would  back 
him,  a  self-constituted  leader,  in  opposing  their 
own  views,  the  more  especially  when  such  opposi 
tion  tended  unquestionably  to  put  their  necks  in 
danger,  seemed  more  than  doubtful.  He  saw 
that  he  must  yield. 

"Let  it  be  so,  then,"  he  said  in  sullen  anger, 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    225 

adding  savagely:  "Bind  his  hands,  and  let  us  go 
at  once." 

Carlos  smiled  in  a  way  that  was  not  pleasant  to 
see. 

"Bring  me  a  horse, "  he  said  quietly,  "and  I 
will  go  with  you  without  trouble.  But  that  man  of 
you  who  dares  attempt  to  place  a  bond  upon  me — 
that  man  will  I  kill." 

Again  Pablo's  frown  was  black,  but  though  he 
glanced  fiercely  at  his  followers,  no  man  moved  to 
carry  out  the  order  he  had  given.  Once  more  he 
felt  that  he  must  yield. 

'  *  Let  him  have  your  horse,  then,  Juan, ' '  he  said, 
*  *  and  you  and  the  others  must  walk  in  turn.  It  is 
not  so  far.  Place  him  half  way  in  the  line,  and 
do  you  lead  and  pick  the  path.  I  will  ride  be 
hind."- 

"Under  your  favor,  Seiior,"  said  Carlos  with 
cool  determination,  "you  will  ride  before  me — or 
I  go  not  at  all.  And  I  give  your  followers  warn 
ing,  here  and  now,  that  if  I  see  sign  of  treachery, 
you,  Seiior,  will  be  the  first  with  cause  to  re 
gret  it," 

Pablo  smiled  sourly.  "Have  your  way, 
Seiior,"  he  said.  "You  talk  bravely,  but  I  do  not 
fear  you. ' ' 

"Be  it  so,  then,"  said  Carlos.  "Do  we  go 
now?  I  am  ready." 


So  it  happened  that  when,  two  hours  later,  eight 
furious  horsemen,  armed  to  the  teeth,  came  plung 
ing  across  the  arroyo  ford  and  up  the  oak- 


226    THE  NINE  SWOKDS  OF  MOEALES 

crowned  hillock,  it  was  to  find  the  spot  deserted, 
but  a  trail,  plain  even  in  the  starlight,  leading 
from  the  place  up  into  the  foot-hills  and  unques 
tionably  to  the  stronghold  of  Gonzales. 

They  followed  at  once,  but  the  alarm  had  been 
given,  their  coming  foreseen,  and  even  on  the 
plain  they  found  that  their  path  was  beset  with 
foes.  Shout  and  signal  sounded  everywhere 
about  them,  dusky  throngs  of  horsemen  thun 
dered  by,  and  though  no  immediate  attack  was 
made,  the  utter  folly  of  the  eight  men  seeking  to 
force  their  way  through  the  hills  unaided  to  Gon 
zales'  stronghold  became  every  instant  more  and 
more  apparent.  It  was  Diego,  youngest  of  The 
Nine,  who  had  pressed  on  most  fiercely  in  the 
chase,  yet  it  was  he  who  finally  called  a  halt  and 
gathered  his  brethren  about  him  for  council.  The 
conference  was  brief — when  it  ended  the  brothers 
turned  their  horses  and  galloped  away  in  the  direc 
tion  of  their  own  home.  Had  they  been  pursued, 
and  sufficiently  closely,  those  who  followed  might 
have  noted  that  when  they  had  passed  the  first 
willow-bordered  arroyo  in  their  path  the  eight 
men  had  become  seven.  And  the  rider  who  was 
missing  was  Diego. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

WHICH   TELLS   HOW    YOUNG   DIEGO    MORALES   SEES   FIT 
TO   VENTURE    HIMSELF   WITHIN   THE   LION'S   DEN 

IT  HAS  been  said  that  the  home  of  Ramon  Gon- 
zales  was  a  fortress.  Planned  by  the  builder 
in  his  earlier  and  more  romantic  youth,  it  stood, 
castle-like,  upon  a  bold  spur  of  the  Santa  Rosa 
Hills,  jutting  not  upon  the  plain  but  into  the  can 
yon  valley  along  which  ran  the  roadway  furnish 
ing  its  chief  avenue  of  approach.  On  one  side  and 
across  part  of  the  rear  the  ground  rose  yet 
higher,  though  with  so  gradual  a  slope  as  to  af 
ford  little  advantage  to  an  assaulting  force,  could 
the  latter  succeed  in  effecting  the  necessary  cir 
cuit.  From  all  the  other  portions  of  the  building 
the  ground  fell  away  steeply,  in  front  descending 
to  the  main  canyon,  at  the  left  and  rear  to  a  nar 
rower  and  more  shallow  ravine  opening  into  that 
before  the  house.  Beyond  this  lesser  gully  was  a 
low  and  narrow  ridge,  and  over  this  the  ground 
sank  again  into  another  rugged  depression  trend 
ing  away,  like  that  before  the  house,  to  the  Santa 
Rosa  Plain,  though  not  in  the  same  direction. 

Viewed  from  the  upper  side,  Gonzales'  home 
presented  the  appearance  of  a  low,  one-story 
square,  and  was  not  at  all  imposing.  From  be- 

16  227 


228    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

low,  however,  thanks  to  the  nature  of  the  ground, 
it  stood  boldly  against  the  sky,  a  full  story  higher, 
and  the  castle-like  appearance  of  the  structure,  as 
observed  from  this  quarter,  was  intensified  by 
the  machicolated  parapet  cresting  the  verge  of  the 
flat  roof,  the  heavy  buttresses  bracing  the  wall, 
and  the  tangle  of  climbing  honeysuckles  and  ivy 
which  half  hid  the  stone  facings  of  the  massive 
adobe  square  at  the  lower  angle  of  the  building. 
High  up  in  the  rear  wall,  and  near  the  corner,  was 
a  small  latticed  window,  one  of  the  very  few  to  be 
observed  anywhere  on  the  exterior  of  a  structure 
which  depended  chiefly  for  light  and  air  upon  the 
court  in  the  center. 

From  his  hiding-place  in  the  tangle  of  honey 
suckles  clustering  about  the  massive  corner  but 
tresses  Diego  Morales  gave  another  and  yet  more 
doubtful  glance  at  that  little  window  above  him. 
But  the  pause  was  only  for  a  moment. 

"Why  should  I  hesitate!"  he  thought,  shrug 
ging  his  broad  shoulders.  "It  is  the  only  one  in 
the  whole  wall — and  get  in  I  must." 

He  began  to  climb. 

There  was,  indeed,  no  other  window  on  his  side 
of  the  building — the  only  one  on  which  he  had 
found  it  possible  to  approach  the  Casa  Gonzales 
unseen.  It  might  admit  him  into  the  room — aye ! 
into  the  very  presence — of  his  chief  foe,  but  there 
was  at  least  a  chance  that  it  would  not.  And  the 
necessities  of  his  position  were  such  that  he  could 
not  afford  to  be  particular. 

Still,  as  he  swung  himself  swiftly  upward,  he 
did  not  neglect  any  possible  precaution.  A  bat 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    2:21) 

would  scarcely  have  made  less  noise,  and  when 
his  fingers  finally  rested  upon  the  window-ledge 
it  was  with  infinite  care  that  he  raised  his  head 
sufficiently  to  permit  him  to  glance  through  the 
aperture — or  rather  to  attempt  to  do  so,  for 
within  the  room  was  no  light,  and  he  seemed  but 
to  be  gazing  against  a  solid  wall  of  blackness. 

"Just  the  same,  though,"  he  thought,  the  idea 
causing  his  face  to  twist  into  a  grimace  half 
amused,  half  rueful,  "this  black  head  of  mine 
must  stand  out  charmingly  against  the  sky.  Ca- 
ramba !  what  a  target  it  must  be ! ' ' 

But  there  was  comfort  in  the  thought  that  no 
one  was  likely  to  be  sitting  in  a  dark  room,  though 
the  chance  remained  that  the  apartment  might  be 
a  bedchamber  and  the  occupant  lying  awake.  But 
it  would  not  do  to  fret  over  such  chances. 

"Now,  bless  the  fool  who  deemed  this  window 
high  enough  up  not  to  need  bars !"  thought  Diego, 
as  he  noted  the  absence  of  these  adjuncts  of  so 
curity.  Then,  supporting  his  weight  by  one 
strong  forearm  and  elbow,  securely  resting  on  the 
broad  masonry  ledge,  he  quietly  thrust  his  knife- 
blade  into  the  crack  between  casing  and  lattice 
frame  and  pried  the  latter  outward.  Evidently 
there  was  no  catch,  for  the  first  effort  was  suc 
cessful. 

One  moment  Diego  hesitated — then,  narrowing 
his  shoulders  as  much  as  might  be,  he  thrust  his 
body  forward  and  inward,  gave  a  vigorous  twist 
or  two,  and  found  himself  through  the  window. 

Despite  his  best  efforts,  he  came  down  in  a  heap 
upon  the  floor,  but  the  latter  was  covered  with 


230    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

some  thick,  matting-like  material,  and  his  fall  was 
neither  noisy  nor  painful.  Nevertheless,  for  a 
moment  or  two  he  remained  as  he  had  fallen, 
breathlessly  still  in  the  darkness,  waiting  for 
whatever  developments  there  might  be.  But 
nothing  happened,  and,  devoutly  thankful  for  the 
good  fortune  which  had  thus  far  attended  him, 
Diego  arose. 

And  then,  in  the  intense  darkness,  utterly  with 
out  warning,  a  strong  hand  closed  suddenly  on  his 
throat,  and  a  voice,  calm  and  low-toned,  but  the 
grim  determination  of  which  was  unmistakable, 
whispered  in  his  ear : 

"Utter  a  cry — move  your  hands — and  I  stran 
gle  you." 

Even  in  the  awful  shock  of  the  sudden  surprise 
Diego's  heart  bounded  with  delight.  Was  ever 
such  luck  as  this ! 

"Carlos,"  he  managed  to  whisper,  despite  the 
pressure  on  his  throat,  "it  is  I — Diego." 

"Diego?" 

"Yes.  Take  your  great  paw  from  my  wind 
pipe.  I  have  come  to  help  you. ' ' 

"You  mad  lad!  And  I  thought  you  some  as 
sassin  Gonzales  had  hired  to  do  what  he  did  not 
dare  himself.  What  else  could  I  believe,  seeing 
you  creeping  in  like  that?  I  thought  I  would  give 
the  murderer  a  surprise." 

"And  you  did — my  throat  aches  yet  with  that 
bear's  grip." 

"Comfort  yourself,  little  brother,"  returned 
Carlos,  with  the  faint  chuckle  Diego  knew  so  well ; 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    231 

"had  I  really  closed  my  hand  you  would  not  be 
talking  now." 

"Possibly  not — nor  breathing,"  said  Diego. 
"And  you,  too,"  he  added,  grimly  smiling  in  the 
darkness,  "would  have  been  as  dead  a  caballero 
as  ever  had  eight  inches  of  steel  thrust  through 
him." 

Again  Diego  felt  his  brother's  great  form 
quiver  with  mirth,  but  Carlos'  only  verbal  re 
joinder  did  not  refer  to  the  grim  jest. 

"Now  that  you  are  here,  Hermanito,  what  is 
your  plan  ? ' ' 

"I  had  none  in  coming — only  the  wish  to  learn 
what  I  could,  and  the  hope  to  profit  by  it.  But 
now  that  I  have  found  you — and  here — it  seems 
simple  enough.  We  have  only  to  drop  through 
the  window,  and  go  as  I  came. ' ' 

"You  do  not  think,"  muttered  Carlos,  in  a  tone 
of  injury,  "that  such  a  man  as  I  can  pass  through 
that  crack?" 

"I  came  through  it,"  said  Diego. 

"Ah,  yes,  Hermanito — and  you  are  not  a  small 
man.  Still  you  lack  many  inches  of  shoulder 
from  being  such  as  I." 

"Perhaps  the  window  may  be  made  larger," 
whispered  Diego,  passing  his  hand  over  the 
masonry,  in  search  of  some  point  where  his  knife- 
blade  might  loosen  the  mortar. 

"Even  so,"  said  Carlos,  "there  are  still  the 
guards — and  how '  was  it,  now  that  I  mention 
them,  that  they  allowed  you  to  pass?" 

"I  saw  none.  It  was  for  that  reason  I  chose 
this  side  of  the  house." 


232    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

"Then  they  were  shirking  their  rascally  duty 
for  the  moment.  They  are  there — four  of  them. 
I  saw  them  stationed  myself. ' ' 

Diego  thrust  his  head  out  through  the  window, 
then  drew  it  suddenly  back. 

"You  are  right,"  he  muttered.  "They  are 
there  again — five  of  them." 

"Five?" 

"Yes— listen!" 

Words  spoken  in  a  suppressed  but  threatening 
voice  came  from  beneath  the  window. 

"Remember,  you  rascals,  no  more  skulking.  If 
Gonzales  knew  you  had  left  your  post  he  would 
cut  the  ears  off  the  four  of  you.  I  will  not  shield 
you  again." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  what  seemed  to  be  rx- 
cuses  and  promises,  then  the  sound  of  departing 
footsteps. 

Diego  looked  cautiously  forth  again. 

"There  are  four  now,"  he  whispered,  "just  be 
neath  the  window." 

"Enough,  and  more,  even  supposing  us  safe 
through,  to  prevent  our  getting  away  without 
noise — and  noise  would  be  fatal." 

Diego  swore. 

' '  That  must  be  quite  a  favorite  fancy  with  Gon 
zales  and  his  men,"  added  Carlos  lightly-*— "that 
matter  of  cutting  off  ears.  It  was  so  he  proposed 
to  treat  me." 

Now  Diego  swore  again — this  time  not  under 
his  breath — the  deepest,  deadliest  oath  known  to 
the  Spanish  tongue,  and  his  hand  sought  his  knife- 
hilt. 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    233 

"He  did  not — he  did  not  dare!"  lie  gasped 
hoarsely. 

"Do  it?  No.  I  am  alive,  am  I  not,  and  with 
no  thief's  marks  upon  me?  Calm  yourself, 
Hermanito. ' ' 

"But  the  insult — that  he  should  dare  to 
threaten  it ! "  growled  Diego,  savagely  still. 

' '  Oh,  threats  break  no  bones,  and  this  he  doubt 
less  thought  a  mild  one.  Another  of  his  sugges 
tions  is  that  he  will  kill  me.  I  should  deserve  it, 
too,  if  I  let  myself  be  slaughtered  like  a  rat  by 
the  ladrone  gang.  A  Morales  slain  by  a  Gon 
zales  ?  Bah!" 

"The  bandit  shall  hang  for  this,  when  Vallejo 
hears." 

"And  catches  him — that  also  is  to  be  consid 
ered,"  added  Carlos  coolly.  "And  then  Gon- 
zales,  lawless  though  he  be  in  his  private  quar 
rels,  is  not  quite  a  bandit,  The  rich  ranchero, 
Gonzales,  an  outlaw?  How  could  such  a  thing 
be!" 

Diego  swore  again. 

"Then,  too,"  resumed  Carlos,  as  calmly  as 
over,  "Gonzales,  left  to  himself,  is  not  altogether 
bad.  I  did  insult  him  at  his  wedding — Dios 
knows  the  rascal  gave  me  cause — and  I  blame  him 
not  that  he  seeks  revenge.  Yet  I  cannot  but  won 
der  what  the  mad  devil  will  dare  do." 

"Nothing,  I  swear.     I — " 

"S-s-h!    We  are  speaking  too  loudly." 

It  seemed  so,  indeed,  for  now  there  was  a  sound 
of  tapping  on  the  door  of  the  room,  and  Gonzales ' 
own  voice  sounded  from  the  passage  without : 


234    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

"Seiior  Morales,  who  is  that  with  you?" 

Carlos  did  not  answer. 

"Who  is  that  with  you?"  repeated  the  voice, 
adding,  with  what  seemed  a  strong  note  of  sar 
casm: 

"You  are  not  given  to  talking  to  yourself,  I 
think,  yet  I  hear  your  voice.  Who  is  it  with 
you?" 

"I  do  not  choose  to  converse  with  jailers," 
said  Carlos  haughtily. 

"Ah,  the  Senor  is  scornful.  Then  I  must  look 
for  myself.  Pedro,  open  the  door  while  I  hold 
the  light." 

Diego  moved  swiftly  toward  the  point  whence 
came  the  sound  of  rattling  bars,  but  Carlos  caught 
his  arm. 

"Why  slay  him?"  he  whispered.  "It  can  do 
no  good." 

"I  have  another  plan.     Stay  here." 

Carlos  obeyed,  and  an  instant  later  the  door 
opened. 

It  swung  inward,  and  Carlos  had  just  a  second 
in  which  to  note  that  Gonzales  stood  in  the  en 
trance  holding  a  candle,  and  to  decide  that  Diego, 
whom  he  could  not  see,  must  be  behind  the  open 
ing  door.  Then  the  flame  of  his  jailer's  taper 
flickered  for  an  instant  as  if  in  a  current  of  air 
from  the  hinge-crack,  and  went  out. 

In  the  thick  darkness  that  instantly  succeeded, 
Carlos  heard  Gonzales  say,  with  a  half-uttered 
curse : 

"Close  the  door,  Pedro,  then  go  for  another 
light." 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    235 

"Si,  Senor,"  said  Pedro. 

"Be  careful,  fool!"  broke  out  the  master's 
voice  again,  sharply  impatient.  "What  are  you 
pushing  against  me  for  ? ' ' 

"Indeed,  Senor,"  replied  the  servitor,  humble, 
yet  expostulating,  "I  thought  it  was  you  that 
pushed  me. ' ' 

k '  Folly !     Hurry  with  the  light. ' ' 

Then  the  door  closed,  and  when  it  opened  again, 
and  Gonzales,  holding  his  taper  just  within  the 
room,  glanced  hastily  but  sharply  about  the  apart 
ment,  its  only  occupant  was  Carlos,  whose  grim 
face  was  not  particularly  pleasant  just  at  that  mo 
ment  for  his  jailer  to  look  upon. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

HOW    DIEGO   THE   RECKLESS   FINDS   STRANGE    COMPANY 
IN    THE    STRONGHOLD    OF    HIS    FOES 

AS  ON  entering  the  room,  so  now  on  slipping 
out  of  it  in  the  darkness,  Diego  had  no  espe 
cial  plan.  To  be  caught  with  Carlos  and  be  com 
pelled  to  share  his  captivity  was,  of  course,  to  lose 
all  immediate  chance  of  ending  it.  An  escape,  if 
so  it  could  be  called,  to  the  interior  of  his  enemy's 
dwelling  did  not  promise  any  very  extended  lease 
of  liberty,  but  every  moment  of  freedom  meant  an 
added  chance  of  something  occurring  in  his  favor. 
And  Diego  was  just  at  that  enthusiastic  period  of 
youthful  manhood  when  it  is  easy  to  believe  in 
chances. 

But  he  fully  realized  that  to  remain  in  the  pas 
sageway,  dark  as  it  was  at  the  instant  he  entered 
it,  actually  rubbing  elbows  with  both  Gonzales  and 
Pedro  as  he  did  so,  was  to  be  discovered  as  soon 
as  the  second  light  should  be  brought.  To  leave 
it  at  once  was  imperative,  and  while  in  doing  so  it 
was  entirely  possible  that  he  might  illustrate  that 
homely  saying,  of  which,  in  its  Anglo-Saxon  form, 
he  had  probably  never  heard,  and  step  from  the 
frying-pan  into  the  fire,  there  could  be  no  question 
that  this  was  the  frying-pan.  The  fire  might  be 

236 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    237 

behind  any  one  of  the  doors  for  which  he  instantly 
began  feeling  along  one  of  the  walls,  but  he  must 
dare  the  leap. 

He  found  at  last,  not  a  door,  but  what  seemed 
the  entrance  of  a  branch  corridor,  into  which  he 
knew,  by  the  sound  of  Pedro's  shuffling  footsteps, 
that  worthy  had  not  entered.  Diego,  however, 
lost  not  an  instant  in  doing  so,  but  a  few  noiseless 
strides  brought  him  suddenly  to  a  standstill  at  the 
passageway's  ending. 

A  touch  of  his  hand  showed  that  there  was  a 
door  before  him,  and  even  as  he  realized  this  his 
fingers  chanced  to  rest  upon  the  latch.  At  the 
same  instant  the  darkness  about  him  began  to 
grow  a  trifle  less  dense  and  he  realized  that  Pedro 
or  some  one  else  must  be  approaching  along  the 
main  corridor  with  a  light.  There  was  no  time 
for  hesitation.  He  lifted  the  latch,  stepped  into 
the  room,  and  closed  the  door  after  him. 

Here  again  was  thick  darkness,  for  though  he 
somehow  fancied  there  was  a  window  in  the  wall 
opposite,  if  there  at  all  it  was  so  heavily  curtained 
that  the  light  without  could  not  enter. 

But  to  stand  motionless  in  the  darkness  with 
out  making  some  effort  to  realize  the  actual  con 
ditions  surrounding  him  was  something  alto 
gether  foreign  to  Diego's  disposition,  and  after  a 
moment  he  moved  softly  forward  in  the  direction 
of  the  window  of  his  fancy,  holding  his  arm  cau 
tiously  extended  before  him  to  guard  as  well  as 
possible  against  sudden  and  noisy  collisions. 

He  had  advanced  some  paces  and,  according 
to  his  calculations,  should  have  been  approaching 


238    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

the  further  side  of  the  room,  when  his  heart 
seemed  for  an  instant  to  stop  beating.  His  out 
stretched  hand  had  come  suddenly  in  contact  with 
a  human  face ! 

Not  a  man's — it  was  the  soft,  round  cheek  of  a 
woman,  warm  with  pulsing  life,  that  his  fingers 
rested  on  for  one  brief  instant;  it  was  a  woman's 
hand,  small  but  vigorous,  which  caught  his  own 
and  flung  it  aside;  it  was  a  woman's  voice,  too, 
that  would  have  uttered  a  startled  scream  had  not 
Diego,  anticipating  it  with  instantaneous  thought 
and  action,  with  swift  and  resolute  rudeness 
pressed  his  hand  upon  the  unknown's  lips  so  ef 
fectively  that  only  a  low,  gasping  murmur  was 
possible. 

With  the  same  motion  he  had  caught  her  swiftly 
to  him,  and  it  was  in  his  arms,  with  her  head 
pressed  against  his  breast,  that  she  struggled 
fiercely,  but  vainly,  to  tear  loose  the  strong  hands 
that  held  her. 

"Senorita!  Senorita!"  gasped  Diego  implor 
ingly — how  was  it  that  even  then  he  had  de 
termined  the  title  could  not  be  senora? — "do  not 
be  frightened.  I  will  not  harm  you — upon  my 
soul  I  will  not.  But  I  cannot  let  you  scream. 
You  must  be  quiet.  You  must,  though  you  force 
me  to  smother  you ! ' ' 

Still  the  girl — surely  only  to  youth  could  belong 
the  roundness  and  the  strength  of  that  lithe  and 
vigorous  form — struggled  fiercely  in  his  arms, 
until  Diego,  young  giant  though  he  was,  feared 
that  she  must  break  away  in  spite  of  him  or  at 
least  release  herself  sufficiently  to  give  that  alarm 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    239 

which  he  knew  would  be  his  instant  ruin.  Impa 
tient  anger  began  to  possess  him,  though  amid  it 
all,  as  his  arms  still  held  her,  the  heart  of  the  boy 
was  already  turning  to  this  strange  unseen  one 
with  an  intensity  of  emotion  that  he  could  not  un 
derstand — that  only  seemed,  indeed,  to  increase 
his  exasperation  at  her  evident  and  persistent 
dread  of  him. 

"Senorita,"  he  muttered  again,  savagely  now, 
"be  quiet!  I  would  not  harm  you.  But  I  am  in 
the  house  of  my  foes,  and  you  shall  not  betray  me 
though  I  strangle  you ! ' ' 

Now  she  reached  out  a  sudden  groping  hand  in 
the  darkness,  caught  something  and  tore  at  it 
blindly,  and  the  thick  curtain,  which  hid  the  win 
dow  Diego  had  rightly  fancied  there,  was  dragged 
aside.  Instantly  a  bright  beam  of  light  from  the 
interior  courtyard  shone  into  the  room.  It  fell 
upon  the  face  so  close  against  the  desperate 
youth's  breast — and  Diego  suddenly  drew  away 
the  hand  he  had  held  upon  her  lips,  for  it  seemed 
almost  profanation  to  the  boy  that  any  part  of 
such  loveliness  should  be  so  rudely  hidden. 

Breathless  from  the  struggle,  the  girl  remained 
for  one  instant  silent  and  motionless,  and,  look 
ing  upon  the  fair  face  so  near,  some  mad  devil  of 
mischief  and  new-born  passion  awoke  suddenly  in 
Diego's  soul.  He  bent  his  head  until  his  flushed 
cheek  almost  touched  her  own. 

"Senorita,  Seiiorita!"  he  whispered,  scarcely 
knowing  what  he  said,  "do  not,  oh,  do  not  fear  me. 
How  could  I  harm  you?  I  love  you,  Senorita — 
bv  this  I  swear  it!" 


240    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

And  the  mad  lad  pressed  his  lips  to  hers. 

Too  late  he  realized  his  insane  folly.  With  a 
single  fierce  effort  she  flung  herself  free  of  his 
clasping  arms.  The  next  instant  a  cry,  shrill 
and  angry,  left  her  lips. 

"Ramon!  brother!  help  me!" 

Diego  stepped  quietly  to  the  window  .and  stood 
there,  shamed  and  despairing,  the  light  falling 
upon  his  white  face.  He  heard,  almost  without 
emotion,  the  sound  of  hurrying  feet  without  the 
room. 

"I  have  deserved  it,"  he  said  aloud,  "but,  ah, 
Senorita,  you  destroy  my  brother  as  well  as  my 
self." 

The  girl,  her  hand  already  upon  the  door, 
turned  suddenly,  and  if  she  had  not  been  in  the 
shadow  Diego  might  have  noticed  a  swift  change 
that  came  over  her  burning  face. 

"Your  brother!"  she  whispered. 

"Yes;  I  came  to  save  him.  And  I  have  thrown 
away  his  chance  with  mine." 

' t  Then  you  are  one  of  the  mad  Morales  ? ' ' 

"The  least  of  all— Diego,"  said  the  lad  humbly. 

"The  maddest  of  all,"  corrected  the  girl,  half 
under  her  breath — and  coolly  shot  the  bolt  of  her 
door. 

She  was  only  just  in  time,  for  some  one  rattled 
the  latch  from  without,  and  Gonzales'  anxious 
voice  was  heard : 

"  'Nita,  let  me  in,  let  me  in!  Why  did  you 
scream!  Open  the  door." 

And  now  Diego  had  reason  to  doubt  the  evi- 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    241 

denee  of  his  own  senses,  for  the  girl  laughed  softly 
and  answered: 

"Go  away,  brother.     It  was  nothing." 

"Nothing?     But  you  called  for  help." 

"Did  I?  Yes,  I  know  that  I  screamed;  but  it 
was  only  a  bad  dream.  I  am  awake  now." 

"Caramba!  And  so  is  the  whole  house," 
growled  Gonzales  discontentedly. 

The  girl  laughed  again,  and  Diego  heard  the 
man  without  stride  away  with  a  step  that  indi 
cated  more  than  a  little  temper. 

Then  the  strange  being  who  had  saved  him 
moved  slowly  across  the  room  and  stood  close  to 
Diego's  side,  the  light  from  the  window  falling 
upon  them  both.  Slowly  and  curiously  her  dark 
eyes  roved  over  his  athletic  young  frame,  resting 
at  last  upon  his  flushing  face. 

"So  this,"  she  murmured  at  last,  with  just  the 
suggestion  of  a  smile  upon  her  lips,  "is  the  great 
Diego,  youngest  of  the  Nine  Swords  of  Morales." 

Diego  writhed  at  the  raillery  of  look  and  words, 
but  schooled  himself  to  bear  a  punishment  which 
he  felt  he  had  deserved. 

"There  are  nine  of  the  Morales  brothers,  Se- 
iiorita,"  he  said  quietly,  "and  I  am  the  young 
est." 

"And  maddest,"  added  the  girl  gravely. 

"And  maddest,  if  it  pleases  you  to  think  so, 
Sefiorita." 

"I  do  think  so,"  said  the  girl,  scorn  and  anger 
in  her  low  tones  now.  "  If  I  thought  you  one  who 
should  be  judged  as  men  are  judged,  do  you  know 
what  I  would  do,  you  insolent  boy?  I  would  call 


242    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

in  my  brother  and  his  men  and  have  you 
whipped. '  ' 

Diego's  face  turned  white,  and  it  seemed  to  the 
proud-hearted  youth  that  something  must  burst 
in  his  brain.  He  heard  his  voice  answering  the 
taunt  and  almost  doubted  for  an  instant  that  it 
was  himself  who  could  speak  so  quietly. 

"You  might  call  them  in  and  have  me  killed, 
Senorita.  You  could  do  nothing  worse  than 
that." 

The  anger  died  out  of  her  face  as  she  spoke 
again,  but  her  words  were  scarcely  friendly. 

"I  would  be  glad  to  release  both  your  brother 
and  yourself  if  I  could, ' '  she  said.  i  i  Certainly  if 
you  are  to  go  free  he  should  also.  Such  as  you 
should  not  be  without  the  guidance  of  their 
elders." 

The  fury  of  a  moment  before  had  died  in 
Diego's  breast,  but  he  bit  his  lip,  and  the  thought 
flashed  through  his  mind: 

"If  only  there  is  ever  a  chance,  my  scornful 
lady,  I  may  teach  you  I  am  not  quite  a  child." 

"If  only — what?"  asked  the  girl,  for  uncon 
sciously,  in  his  exasperation,  a  portion  of  his 
thought  had  been  uttered  half  aloud. 

"If  only  you  would  aid  me  to  release  my 
brother,  Senorita,"  said  Diego  with  great  meek 
ness,  "I  care  not  for  myself." 

"If  I  release  you,  it  will  be  much  to  do,"  said 
the  girl  coldly.  "To  set  your  brother  free  is 
beyond  my  power,  even  if  I  were  minded  to  in 
terfere  in  Ramon's  quarrels.  You  are  given  to 
insulting  people,  you  Morales,  and  your  brother 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    243 

was  less  fortunate  or  less  wise  than  you,  since  he 
chose  a  man  and  not  a  woman  for  his  victim." 

Diego's  face  grew  white,  and  with  a  sudden  im 
pulse  he  moved  unsteadily  toward  the  door.  The 
girl  caught  his  arm. 

"What  are  you  doing ?"  she  whispered. 

"I  will  give  myself  up  to  your  brother  and  his 
cutthroats.  Men  are  less  cruel  than  women.7' 

"You  mad  boy!  Have  I  not  said  I  would  save 
you?" 

"I  would  rather  do  without  your  aid,  though  I 
perish. ' ' 

"Ah,  and  your  brother?" 

Diego  paused. 

"You  are  right,"  he  said  coldly,  after  a  mo 
ment.  ' '  Until  he  is  freed  I  must  not  think  of  my 
self.  If  you  will  aid  me  to  escape  I  shall  be  grate 
ful,  though  I  warn  you,  Senorita,  that  I  will  use 
my  liberty  to  foil  your  brother. ' ' 

'"That  as  it  shall  be.     Come." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

DIEGO  MORALES  EIDES  AWAY  FROM  THE  CASA  GONZALES 
WITHOUT  HIS  BROTHER,  AND  YET  NOT  ALONE 

THROUGH  what  strange,  dark  passages  the 
girl  led  him  Diego  never  knew.  The  one  fact 
remained  that  she  chose  her  path  well,  for  not  once 
while  they  threaded  the  labyrinth  of  unlighted 
rooms  and  corridors  did  they  encounter  a  human 
being.  Cautiously  but  unerringly  she  moved  on 
ward,  her  firm  young  hand  clasping  his,  and  the 
warm  touch,  unconsciously  to  him,  perhaps,  every 
instant  softening  the  fierce  anger  he  had  so  lately 
felt  toward  her.  Yet  deep  in  his  soul  lingered 
still,  as  he  thought  of  her  insulting  words,  not 
only  the  desire  but  the  purpose  of  vengeance. 

At  last  a  final  door  opened,  one  so  narrow  that 
Diego  with  difficulty  squeezed  his  powerful  frame 
through  it,  and  the  two  found  themselves  in  the 
fresh  night  air  upon  the  rugged  hillside  sloping 
steeply  down  from  the  lower  side  of  the  Casa 
Gonzales.  Here  seemed  to  be  no  guards,  though 
doubtless  some  sort  of  a  watch  was  kept,  or  sup 
posed  to  be,  from  the  parapeted  roof  of  the  house, 
though  this  approach  might  well  be  deemed  prac 
tically  inaccessible. 

"There  is  not  one  chance  in  a  thousand  that  we 

244 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    245 

will  be  seen  in  crossing  to  the  ravine,"  said  'Nita, 
answering  his  unspoken  thought.  "Once  in  the 
woods  there  and  the  rest  should  be  easy. ' ' 

"Yes,  my  horse  is  there, "  said  Diego,  "if  only 
I  knew  a  safer  path  to  ride  away  on  than  that 
which  I  followed  in  coming. ' ' 

"Once  you  are  mounted  I  will  show  you,"  said 
the  girl.  ' i  Now,  come.  We  must  move  quickly. ' ' 

Hand  in  hand  they  sped  across  the  open  space, 
and  it  was  but  the  task  of  a  moment  to  gain  the 
shadow  and  the  shelter  of  the  thick  woods  which 
fringed  the  bank  of  the  arroyo  beyond.  Then 
Diego  became  the  guide,  and  a  moment  more  saw 
them  standing  beside  the  great  black  horse  which 
had  borne  him  on  this  thus  far  fruitless  errand  of 
rescue. 

'Nita,  half  feeling  with  her  slender  hands,  half 
seeing  in  the  faint  light  that  flickered  through  the 
branches,  noted  that  a  large  handkerchief  was 
bound  loosely  about  the  animal's  mouth  and  nos 
trils,  manifestly  as  a  discouragement  to  neighing. 
She  turned  to  Diego  with  the  faint  smile  that  he 
knew  was  on  her  lips,  though  he  could  not  see  it. 

"You  are  not  a  bandit,  Senor,"  she  said.  "Oh, 
surely  not!  yet  you  know  bandit  tricks." 

Diego  wisely  refrained  from  answering,  busy 
ing  himself  instead  in  unhooking  from  the  saddle 
and  buckling  upon  his  athletic  person  the  great 
Mexican  saber,  such  as  all  his  brothers  wore. 
'Nita  watched  him  silently  as  he  clasped  the 
straps  about  him,  making  only  one  comment  when 
the  task  had  been  completed. 

"I  understand,"  she  said  gravely.    "You  left 


246    THE  NINE  SWOEDS  OF  MORALES 

the  sword  here  because  it  would  have  been  in  the 
way  when  you  were  stealing  into  my  brother's 
house  like  a  midnight  robber." 

"That  was  the  reason,  Senorita,"  said  Diego 
hoarsely,  almost  grinding  his  teeth,  while  the 
faint  feeling  of  shame  and  relenting  that  had  been 
rising  within  him  because  of  a  plan  that  had 
sprung  into  existence  in  his  mind  died  away, 
leaving  the  old  vengeful  purpose.  Yet  at  the  last 
moment  he  made  one  effort  against  himself. 

"Seiiorita,"  he  said,  "I  am  ready  to  go.  I 
thank  you  for  your  kindness,  and  I  would  forget 
your  cruelty  if  I  could.  But,  letting  that  pass, 
may  I  not  hope  that  you  will  pardon  that  in  me 
which  was  ill  done,  and,  so  pardoning,  lend  me 
your  aid  in  releasing  my  brother?" 

Perhaps  the  words  sounded  forced  and  formal, 
as,  indeed,  they  were.  In  any  case  they  failed  of 
their  effect. 

"Senor,"  said  the  girl  coldly,  "over  the  ridge 
to  the  left  lies  your  safest  way.  One  moment  will 
take  you  into  the  path.  The  road  is  smooth,  and 
even  in  the  darkness  you  may  make  what  speed 
you  choose.  Go,  now,  while  I  am  in  the  mood  to 
let  you.  For  your  brother,  I  make  no  promises, 
but  if  you  wish  to  try  another  effort  in  his  behalf 
send  some  other  of  his  brethren.  Surely,  they 
are  not  all  silly  boys." 

Diego  sprang  into  his  saddle. 

"That  is  your  last  word,  Senorita  ?"  he  said 
hoarsely. 

"My  last  for  you — yes." 


THE  NINE  SWOEDS  OF  MORALES    247 

"By  the  swords  of  the  Morales,  you  are  wrong! 
Learn  that  from  the  silly  boy!" 

And  then,  before  she  could  so  much  as  guess 
his  meaning,  he  had  stooped  from  the  saddle, 
caught  her  under  the  arms,  and  swung  her  up  be 
fore  him. 

' '  Let  me  go !  Let  me  go ! "  she  gasped,  strug 
gling  fiercely  but  vainly  in  the  arms  that  held  her 
like  a  ring  of  steel.  "Madman!  you  will  repent 
of  this!" 

"Perhaps — but  I  will  not  let  you  go.  This 
way,  you  said,  lies  my  path?  It  is  yours,  too, 
Senorita.  Beware  how  you  struggle  as  we  ride. 
A  fall  might  be  your  death." 

"Wretch,  you  will  not  dare?" 

i '  Will  I  not  ?  You  do  not  know  me,  Senorita — 
not  yet.  But  you  will  have  time  to  learn  before 
we  part." 

She  bent  fiercely  backward,  and  Diego  knew 
that  her  purpose  was  to  strike  him  in  the  face. 
He  laughed  and  clasped  her  closer. 

"Ah,  do  not  rage  so,  Senorita.  I  know  that  I 
am  acting  badly,  but  then  nothing  very  good  can 
come  from  a  wretch,  a  madman,  and  a  silly  boy. 
And  let  me  beg  that  you  do  not  scream,  for  that 
may  bring  enemies  and  bullets  our  way,  and  I 
would  not  have  you  harmed." 

The  instant  reply  of  the  half-maddened  girl  was 
a  shrill  scream  which  rang  wildly  and  far  through 
the  still  night  air.  Before  its  echoes  had  died 
away  almost  innumerable  cries  answered  it  from 
the  walls  and  woods  of  the  hacienda. 

"Caramba!     What  a   swarm  of  bandits  they 


248   THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

keep  here!"  growled  Diego,  with  a  short,  fierce 
laugh.  "But  it  will  never  do  to  stay  and  count 
them.  So  my  good  horse,  vamos!" 

"Help!  help  me!  men  of  Gonzales!"  screamed 
the  girl  again. 

' '  'Nita !  where  are  you  ?  What  is  it  f "  cried  a 
voice  from  the  flat  roof  of  the  casa,  and  Diego 
checked  his  impatient  steed  yet  another  moment, 
for  he  knew  the  tones. 

"Gonzales!  is  it  you?"  he  shouted. 

".Yes,  it  is  I;  who  is  it  that  calls?" 

"Morales — Diego  Morales.  Your  sister  is 
here  with  me.  In  an  hour  she  will  be  with  my 
people.  Should  you  wish  her  at  home  again  send 
your  message  by  my  brother.  But,  let  him  come 
to  harm"-— and  now  Diego's  voice  took  on  a  tone 
of  savagery  which  would  have  sounded  oddly  in 
deed  to  any  one  who  could  have  seen  the  broad 
smile  upon  his  face — ' '  let  him  come  to  harm,  and 
we  will  send  you  the  Senorita's  head!  Vamos, 
Pedrocito ! ' ' 

The  impatient  steed  reared  and  plunged,  then 
darted  forward  with  a  thunderous  power  and 
swiftness  which  might  have  augured  speedy  dis 
aster  had  a  less  perfect  rider  sat  in  the  saddle 
and  a  less  sure  hand  been  on  the  reins. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

TELLING    OF    PERILS    AND    ALSO    OF    CERTAIN    STRANGE 
EXPERIENCES   WHICH  BEFELL  DIEGO   ON   THE  WAY 

THE  girl  no  longer  struggled.  A  horsewoman 
herself  from  childhood,  she  knew  that  a  fall 
now  would  mean  almost  inevitable  death,  and  Die 
go  was  no  longer  under  the  necessity  of  devoting 
all  his  attention  to  her.  He  held  her  firmly  but 
lightly  before  him,  not  suffering  her  to  rest  heavily 
upon  the  saddle,  and  finding,  even  under  these  odd 
circumstances,  a  keen  pleasure  in  realizing  that 
there  was  strength  enough  in  his  athletic  young 
arm  to  save  her  from  what  might  easily  have  been 
the  great  physical  discomfort  of  this  wild  ride. 

The  path  which  they  were  following,  though 
reasonably  clear  of  obstacles,  at  times  descended 
steeply,  but  Diego  made  no  effort  to  check  the 
progress  of  his  sure-footed  steed.  He  knew  that 
he  would  be  pursued  by  those  who  would  ride 
even  more  recklessly  than  himself,  and  that  until 
he  should  have  left  the  hills  and  the  narrow  can 
yon  pathway  upon  which  there  was  no  chance  of 
concealment  it  behooved  him  not  to  tarry.  Once 
out  on  the  broad  plains  lying  between  the  So 
noma  range  and  the  Russian  River,  there  might 
be  a  chance  of  his  eluding  his  pursuers  in  the 

249 


250    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

darkness.     Here   there  was  none — and  he  rode 
madly  on. 

At  last,  however,  he  drew  rein — and  suddenly. 
The  girl  in  his  arms  was  weeping. 

"Ah,  Senorita,"  he  murmured,  remorsefully, 
imploringly,  "do  not  do  that.  Reproach  me, 
revile  me,  if  you  will — perhaps  I  deserve  it — but 
do  not  break  my  heart  with  your  tears. ' ' 

There  was  no  reply  in  words,  but  the  slender 
form  in  his  arms  still  quivered,  and  the  sobbing 
sighs  that  so  went  to  his  heart  did  not  cease. 

"Oh,  Senorita,  what  can  I  do!"  said  the  lad 
again,  half  desperate  now.  "I  cannot  let  you 
go — Carlos  still  in  your  brother's  hands.  That 
would  be  his  ruin.  But  surely,  surely  you  do  not 
fear  me.  That  mad  threat — you  must  know  it 
was  but  a  wild  jest.  Indeed,  I  almost  laughed  as 
I  uttered  it.  Harm  you — you,  mi  querida! 
Rather  would  I  die." 

Now  the  girl  straightened  suddenly  in  the 
saddle. 

"Listen!"  she  said,  in  a  voice  of  low  eagerness. 

From  somewhere  behind  them  came  the  clatter 
of  galloping  hoofs. 

"They  are  coming,"  she  said,  dashing  away 
her  tears.  "They  will  overtake  you!" 

"And  you  will  be  glad,  Senorita  1  You  do  not 
answer.  Ah,  that  is  better.  At  least  you  spare 
me  that  unkindness,  and  I  thank  you.  But  the 
horses  will  be  swift  that  catch  my  Pedrocito,  even 
with  his  double  burden.  And,  Senorita,  let  me 
swear  once  more  that  in  my  care  you  have  noth- 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OP  MORALES    251 

ing  in  this  world  to  fear.  While  I  live  there  shall 
no  harm  come  near  you." 

Once  more  he  gave  the  willing  steed  the  rein, 
and  again  they  plunged  forward  in  the  darkness. 
Diego  knew  that  the  pursuers  must  be  very  close 
upon  him  now,  but  his  heart  beat  with  a  sensation 
of  half  mad  delight,  for  he  could  not  but  think 
that  it  was  no  longer  an  inert,  wholly  unwilling 
burden  that  he  bore.  Surely,  surely,  he  told  him 
self,  there  was  just  a  suggestion  in  the  pressure 
of  her  arms  against  him  that  seemed  to  tell  of 
fading  enmity. 

But  even  as  the  bewildering,  entrancing  thought 
took  final  shape  in  his  mind  it  was  dashed  there 
from  with  a  shock,  for  a  sight  came  suddenly  be 
fore  his  eyes  which  convinced  him  that  now  was 
no  time  for  dreams  such  as  these. 

Into  the  blaze  of  a  camp-fire  suddenly  swept 
Diego's  flying  steed  as  he  rounded  a  curve — the 
last  in  the  canyon  pathway  before  it  opened  out 
into  the  broad  stretch  of  the  Santa  Rosa  plains. 
About  the  fire  were  grouped  nearly  a  half-score  of 
armed  men,  and  Diego  knew  without  telling  that  it 
was  one  of  Gonzales'  outposts,  stationed  here  to 
guard  the  approach  to  his  stronghold.  The  young 
Morales  had  not  looked  for  it — his  approach  to  his 
brother's  prison  had  been  otherwise  made,  and  he 
had  deemed  the  words  of  his  own  captive,  spoken 
before  she  became  such,  a  warrant  for  believing 
this  outlet  from  the  hills  unguarded.  For  one 
brief  instant  there  flashed  through  his  mind  the 
thought  that  even  from  the  first  she  had  meant  to 
betray  him. 


252    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

He  cast  it  resolutely  from  him  as  all  unworthy, 
but,  as  if  she  had  divined  the  thought,  she  spoke, 
and  in  her  voice  was  what  seemed  a  strange  min 
gling  of  horror  and  pleading: 

"I  did  not  know!  Oh,  I  did  not  know.  But 
you  will  never  believe  me ! ' ' 

"Mi  querida!"  murmured  Diego  passionately, 
but  he  had  time  to  say  no  more,  for  already  a 
sharp  challenge  rang  out  and  the  men  by  the  fire 
sprang  into  the  path  to  bar  his  way. 

And  then,  before  even  his  quick  wits  could  act, 
tJie  voice  of  the  girl  in  his  arms  sounded,  quick 
and  imperious : 

k'Make  way  for  us,  caballeros !  Do  you  not 
know  'Xita  Gonzales?" 

The  men  drew  aside,  but  doubtfully.  They  well 
knew  the  haughty  voice  that  addressed  them,  but  it 
was  strange  to  see  the  willful  young  maid  of  the 
hacienda  riding  in  such  manner  at  this  hour  of 
the  night.  Had  she  been  alone  in  the  saddle,  or 
even  seated  behind  her  male  companion  in  the 
fashion  favored  by  less  daring  female  riders  than 
she  was  known  to  be,  there  would  have  been  little 
to  wonder  at.  But  to  see  her  thus  was  something 
that  seemed  passing  strange. 

Still,  there  was  no  mistaking  the  voice  whose 
imperious  orders  every  man  there  had  in  times 
past  learned  that  it  was  well  to  obey,  and  in  the 
uncertain  light  none  recognized  the  man  who  rode 
with  her,  stranger  as  ho  was  to  most  of  them.  So 
they  drew  back,  hesitatingly  at  first,  and  then  rap 
idly,  the  more  so  that  the  great  black  horse  came 
plunging  forward  with  scarcely  a  slackening  in 


THE  XiXE  SWORDS  OF  MOEALES    253 

liis  speed  and  no  apparent  intention  of  pausing 
for  any  obstacle,  human  or  otherwise.  In  an  in 
stant  the  picket  was  passed,  not  so  swiftly, 
though,  that  the  firelight  did  not  for  the  fraction 
of  a  second  flash  full  upon  Diego's  face  and  make 
its  features  plain  to  the  one  man  in  the  little 
group  of  guards  who  had  chanced  to  meet  him  in 
the  days  before  the  beginning  of  the  feud  between 
the  families  of  Morales  and  Gonzales. 

"Caramba!"  shouted  the  man,  as  the  horse 
swept  by — and  Diego  knew  he  had  been  recog 
nized. 

' '  It  does  not  matter, ' '  he  said  aloud ;  ' l  the  oth 
ers  will  be  up  with  them  in  a  moment  and  then  all 
would  be  known.  A  pleasant  talk  they  will  give 
the  guards,  too,"  he  added,  laughing,  not  alto 
gether  at  the  humor  of  the  thought,  but  likewise 
because  of  the  fact  that  the  broad,  free  plains 
were  now  before  him,  his  horse,  still  fresh  and  vig 
orous,  beneath  him,  and — most  joyous  thought  of 
all — in  his  arms  that  lovely  and  already  madly 
loved  hostage,  whom,  in  the  proud  exuberance  of 
youthful  hope,  he  told  himself  he  should  never 
part  with  now — never,  though  a  thousand  hostile 
brothers  intervened,  if  only  in  his  devotion  could 
be  found  a  cure  for  the  hot  anger  that  his  own 
wild  acts  had  awakened. 

Her  voice,  calm  and  quiet  now,  interrupted  the 
glowing  dreams. 

"They  knew  you,  Sefior?" 

"Aye,  Donna  'Nita.  But  what  matter  since  we 
are  by — and  that  we  are,  thanks  to  your  quick 
thought  and  generous  deed.  Oh,  why  did  you  do 


254    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

it,  mi  querida?  Do  you  want  to  make  me  mad  for 
you?  Did  I  not  love  you  enough  even  in  your 
hate  and  scorn  ?" 

' i  Silly  boy !  And  you  had  not  known  me  until 
an  hour  ago ! ' ' 

"An  hour — is  it  only  that?  Ah,  querida,  it  is 
in  that  hour  I  have  begun  to  live." 

"Oh,  peace!  I  tried  to  aid  you  because  I  had 
said  this  path  was  unguarded.  I  would  not  have 
you  think  I  had  betrayed  you. ' ' 

"And  that  was  all?" 

"Yes— that  was  all." 

Diego  laughed  joyously. 

"Ah,  that  I  will  not  believe — vain  though  I  be 
to  doubt  it.  You  do  not  love  me — no,  why  should 
you?  But  your  hate  is  gone,  is  it  not?  And  for 
the  rest,  the  years  stretch  before  us,  and  you  and 
I  are  young,  and  with  me,  at  least,  will  be  patience 
as  lasting  as  my  life.  Oh,  'Nita,  'Nita!  I  stole 
you  away  to  help  my  brother,  but  now — now,  if 
my  heart  could  rule  my  will,  not  a  thousand  broth 
ers  could  buy  my  hostage  from  me. ' ' 

"But  there  are  those  behind  who  will  not  buy. 
Ride — ride  !  you  mad  boy,  if  you  would  live  to  see 
the  dawn!" 

She  was  right.  Intoxicated  with  his  dream  of 
love  and  longing,  he  had  not  kept  his  horse  at  the 
full  speed  of  which  the  animal  was  capable,  and 
now,  glancing  back,  he  saw,  streaming  over  the  hil 
lock  which  had  concealed  their  first  approach,  a 
strong  body  of  horsemen,  dusky  in  the  shadows 
of  the  night,  but  already  so  near  that  there  was 
no  chance  of  his  escaping  their  eyes.  Even  as  he 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    255 

noted  them  a  chorus  of  shrill  and  triumphant 

shouts  told  him  that  such  a  hope  was  already  vain. 

"Caramba!"  he  muttered,  "have  I  let  them 
come  so  near!  But  there  is  a  long  way  between 
seeing  and  taking  those  my  Pedrocito  bears.  Is 
it  not  so,  muchacho?" 

The  great  black  horse,  plunging  forward  now 
at  a  terrific  rate  of  speed,  as  if  his  double  burden 
were  nothing  but  a  jest,  tossed  his  head  in  con 
fident  answer,  and  went  rushing  onward  through 
the  night,  while  in  a  moment  the  cries  of  the  pur 
suers,  changing  from  shouts  of  triumph  to  curses 
of  rage,  proved  that  they  had  already  noted  the 
hopelessness  of  the  chase.  But  other  and  more 
threatening  sounds  were  to  come,  for  an  instant 
later  a  scattering  volley  of  carbine  shots  rang  out 
behind  and  told  yet  more  clearly  of  the  pursuers' 
wrath  and  desperation. 

"That  is  a  threat  only,"  laughed  Diego.  "They 
would  not  dare  risk  injury  to  you.  Do  not  fear, 
mi  querida.  Even  though  some  mad  fool  took 
aim — " 

"Even  then?"  said  the  girl,  as  he  paused. 

"Why  speak  of  it — no  one  will  dare,"  said 
Diego,  a  little  confusedly,  and  urged  Pedrocito  to 
yet  greater  speed. 

"Ah,  look,  look!"  suddenly  cried  the  girl. 

Diego  did  not  need  the  warning.  He,  too,  had 
seen,  and  for  the  first  time  a  sensation  not  of  fear, 
but  of  desperation,  came  into  his  brave  young 
heart. 

"They  muster  thick,  indeed,"  he  muttered  be 
tween  his  grinding  teeth.  "Who  would  have 


250    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

thought    your    brother    had    his    scouts    so    far 
afield?" 

From  positions  on  both  sides  of  the  course  he 
had  marked  out  for  himself  across  the  plains  to 
his  home  upon  the  Russian  River,  strong  bodies  of 
horsemen  were  riding  swiftly  toward  each  other 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  completely  bar  his  way. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

A  GREAT  SURPRISE  AND  A  GREATER  JOY  COME  TO  DIEGO 
MORALES AXD   THE   STORY   ENDS 

THERE  came  into  Diego's  being  at  one  and  the 
same  instant  a  conviction  that  he  must  die 
—  and  an  intense  longing  to  live.  Never  before 
that  he  remembered  had  he  measured  the  chances 
of  life  and  death.  It  was  not  that  he  had  no  love 
for  the  one,  no  natural  dread  for  the  other.  It 
was  rather  the  pure  carelessness  of  youth  that 
had  made  him  heedless  of  both.  But  now  there 
was  that  throbbing  in  his  heart,  that  burning 
in  his  brain,  which  in  an  instant,  as  it  seemed,  had 
altered  all.  Life  was  so  worth  the  living!  Youth 
and  strength,  with  the  glowing  hopes  of  future 
years,  were  so  glorious!  The  girl  in  his  arms 
was  so  beautiful  —  and  because  she  was  there,  so 
riven  from  her  home  by  his  reckless  hands,  there 
remained  for  him  now  no  chance  of  escape  or  of 
pardon  —  only  the  hope  of  a  brave  man's  death. 

Half  involuntarily  Diego  checked  his  horse  and 
glanced  for  a  moment  backward  and  forward,  as  if 
measuring  and  comparing  the  strength  of  the  two 
bodies  of  foes  so  fatally  closing  in  upon  him. 
;Bide    on,    ride    on!"    said   the    girl   eagerly. 

257 


. . 


258    THE  NINE  SWOEDS  OF  MORALES 

"Behind  is  only  death  for  you !     Before  there  may 
be  yet  a  hope. ' ' 

"A  slight  one,  'Nita;  yet  I  must  take  it,"  said 
the  lad  sternly.  "But  you,  mi  querida,"  and  the 
deep  tones  grew  tender  and  yearning,  "you  are 
free  from  me  now. ' ' 

The  girl  raised  herself  suddenly  in  the  saddle  as 
if  to  look  into  his  eyes. 

"  You  mean — " 

"I  mean  that  we  part  here,  'Nita.  My  mad 
dream  is  already  ended,"  said  Diego  sadly. 

"Yes,  we  must  part,"  said  the  girl,  a  little 
coldly.  "If  you  hope  to  dash  through  them  I 
would  be  but  a  clog  upon  you.  You  are  safer 
alone. ' ' 

"You  know  you  wrong  me  now,  'Nita,"  said  the 
boy,  his  low  voice  full  of  sad  pride.  "But  you 
must  not  share  my  peril." 

"Yet  you  laughed  when  they  fired  upon  us — 
upon  me." 

"They  fired  from  behind  then,"  said  Diego 
simply.  "I  was  between  you  and  their  bullets. 
But  I  cannot  shield  you  from  attack  on  every 
side." 

"Ride  on,"  said  the  girl,  her  head  bent  on  her 
breast  and  her  voice  sounding  low  and  muffled. 

"Not  with  you.  Quick,  'Nita!  They  are  al 
most  here." 

6  i  I  care  not.    I  will  not  leave  you — not  now. ' ' 

"  'Nita!" 

She  did  not  answer  in  words,  but  in  the  dusky 
half-light  she  lifted  her  head  as  he  bent  his,  and 
their  lips  met  in  a  kiss  of  passionate  betrothal. 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    259 

Peril  or  doom  might  be  impending,  but  for  that 
one  instant  of  wild  forgetfulness  the  world  ex 
isted  for  them  alone. 

One  second  only — then  Diego  lifted  his  glowing 
face,  and  his  low  voice  sounded  deep  and  full,  like 
that  of  one  who  knew  that  only  triumph  could  be 
before  him. 

"Sit  close,  my  darling,  as  we  come  among  them. 
They  have  yet  something  to  learn  of  this  brave 
horse  we  ride ! ' ' 

"Give  the  cry  of  my  brother's  men — 'Gon- 
zales!' — when  you  reach  them,"  said  'Nita,  as 
Pedrocito  once  more  darted  forward.  "It  should 
stay  them  for  an  instant,  and  that  instant  may  see 
us  through  their  line." 

Diego  pressed  her  more  closely  to  his  breast  as 
a  sign  he  understood,  but  made  no  answer  in 
words.  Indeed,  there  was  no  time. 

Like  a  solid  wall  the  horsemen  before  him 
closed  together,  and  if  he  had  hoped  to  dart  di 
rectly  through  them  he  must  have  seen  in  an 
instant  that  such  a  plan  could  not  be  carried  out. 
But  if  he  could  persuade  them  that  such  was  his 
purpose,  something,  at  least,  would  be  gained  for 
the  sudden  dash  sidewise  and  past,  which  was  the 
sole  and  terribly  simple  plan  that  seemed  left  to 
him.  So  he  rode  directly  forward,  drawing  his 
sombrero  brim  low  down  in  front,  for  torches  be 
gan  to  blaze  among  the  crowd  before  him,  and  he 
had  no  mind  that  his  foemen  should  know  him 
for  a  Morales  until  the  last  moment. 

Now  he  was  almost  upon  the  waiting  troop,  and 

18 


260    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

the  time  for  'Nita's  simple  stratagem  seemed  to 
have  come. 

"Gonzales ! ' '  he  shouted,  swinging  his  horse  sud 
denly  to  the  left,  while  a  touch  of  the  spur  and  a 
twitch  of  the  bit  caused  the  trained  animal  to  lunge 
out  fiercely  to  right  and  left  with  flying  hoofs  and 
gleaming  teeth. 

But  a  cry  of  rage  answered — a  cry  mingled  with 
fierce  laughter. 

' i  t  Gonzales  T  "  some  one  shouted.  ' '  No  robber 
of  that  name  passes  here !" 

Instantly  the  horsemen  enveloped  him  on  every 
side,  and  the  light  of  the  flaring  torches  shone  on 
naked  sabres  and  the  fierce  faces  of  angry  men. 

Then  Diego  threw  back  his  head  with  one  short 
burst  of  wild  laughter. 

' '  The  Morales ! "  he  shouted.    ' l  The  Morales ! ' ' 

' l  Diego ! ' '  cried  a  half-dozen  of  his  brothers  at 
once ;  and  the  brandished  swords  dropped  and  the 
fierce  faces  grew  bright  and  eager. 

"Yes,  it  is  Diego — but  though  I  be  no  true 
Gonzales,  those  are  who  follow  me;  so  look  to 
your  arms." 

"Bah !"  said  Jose  Morales,  next  youngest  of  the 
nine  to  Diego.  "We  have  here  a  hundred  men — 
our  own  people,  our  brother  De  Guerra's  follow 
ers,  and  Herrera's  cutthroats — Francisco  him 
self  the  wildest  of  the  lot." 

Young  Herrera  laughed  aloud  at  this  graphic 
description  of  his  followers  and  himself. 

"But — Caramba!  who  is  this  you  have  with 
you?"  said  Miguel  Morales,  riding  nearer  and 
peering  closely  at  the  muffled  face  and  figure  held 


t 

THE  NINE  SWOEDS  OF  MORALES    261 

so  closely  in  Diego's  arms.  "Surely,  surely  it  is 
not  Carlos — wounded — dead?" 

"No,  it  is  not  Carlos, "  said  Diego  gently,  smil 
ing  in  the  darkness,  "but  he  is  well — safe,  too, 
my  brothers,  for  I  have  here  a  hostage  for  him." 

And  then  he  bent  his  head  and  whispered,  so 
low  that  only  one  listener  heard: 

"A  hostage  that  I  will  never  give  up — never, 
never  while  I  live !" 


And  he  never  did.  Gonzales,  secretly  glad,  per- 
-haps,  of  an  excuse  for  not  carrying  out  threats 
and  plans  made  in  the  heat  of  passion,  released 
Carlos  the  next  morning,  and  the  chief  of  the 
Morales  rode  unharmed  to  the  home  of  his  people. 
There  strange  news  awaited  him — news  that 
caused  him  at  once  to  remount  his  steed  and,  for 
bidding  escort  or  company,  ride  calmly  back  to 
the  prison  he  had  quitted.  Gonzales  greeted  him 
with  a  face  of  blank  amazement. 

"I  am  come,"  said  Carlos  gravely,  waiting  for 
no  questions,  "to  redeem  my  honor.  I  could  not 
send  back  the  hostage.  The  Senorita  'Nita  Gon 
zales  is  no  more." 

Gonzales,  the  best  and  truest  sentiment  of  whose 
heart  was  his  love  for  his  madcap  sister,  turned 
white  as  death  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"No,  no!  It  is  not  so  bad  as  that,"  said  Carlos 
with  instant  remorse.  ' '  Forgive  me  that  I  allowed 
myself  so  much  of  vengeance.  Your  sister  is  alive 
and  well — but  she  is  no  longer  Juanita  Gonzales. ' ' 

The  other  gazed  at  Carlos  with  bewildered  eyes. 


262    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

"I  do  not  understand, "  he  said  hoarsely. 

"Others  must  explain  more  fully  than  I,"  said 
Carlos ;  ' '  but  certain  it  is  that  those  mad  children 
rode  not  to  my  home  last  night,  but  to  the  priest— 
and  to-day  there  is  no  'Nita  Gonzales." 

And  then,  while  the  man  who  had  been  his  bitter 
foe  stared  at  him  helplessly,  as  if  half  incapable 
of  comprehending  his  meaning,  Carlos  silently 
extended  his  hand.  Gonzales  grasped  it,  and  a 
slow  light  seemed  to  dawn  in  his  face,  driving  the 
doubt  and  gloom  away. 

The  wedding  of  Manuel  de  Guerra  and  Dolores 
Morales,  strangely  delayed  as  it  had  been,  was 
marked  by  unanticipated  distinction  and  splendor. 
Two  other  unions,  undreamed  of  when  Manuel  and 
Dolores  first  plighted  their  troth,  had  immediately 
preceded  it,  and  the  brides,  fairest  among  So 
noma  's  daughters  of  the  time  save  for  Dolores  her 
self,  lent  their  lovely  presence  to  her  nuptials. 
Pancha  Gonzales,  though  nursing  no  grievance, 
deemed  it  better  to  be  absent,  but  her  husband, 
silent  but  not  sullen,  was  there,  having  ridden  to 
the  Casa  Morales  at  the  head  of  all  that  was  best 
in  his  following.  The  welcome  given  him  was 
everything  he  could  have  wished.  Bygones  were 
bygones,  and  no  one  made  the  mistake  of  referring 
ever  so  slightly  to  the  past.  For  the  rest,  the 
guests  who  had  vainly  gathered  for  the  same  fes 
tival  months  before  came  again,  not  one  failing, 
and  with  them  many  a  caballero  whom  faction 
feeling  or  the  desire  to  be  neutral  had  on  the 
earlier  occasion  kept  away.  Old  Rivas  was  there 
and  the  three  Carillos — with  them  Berryessas, 


THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES    263 

Pacliecos,  Castros,  Alvarados,  and  a  host  of  others. 
Finally — crowning  distinction — from  the  little 
garrison  at  the  Sonoma  Pueblo  came  a  gorgeously 
uniformed  aide-de-camp  bearing  to  bride  and 
groom  the  felicitations  and  wedding-gifts  of  gal 
lant  Vallejo.  And  so,  amid  every  evidence  of 
restored  peace,  every  prospect  of  future  happi 
ness,  with  brides  for  bridesmaids — a  strange  fea 
ture,  but  one  upon  which  all  concerned  insisted 
— Dolores  and  Manuel  were  made  one. 

So  the  feud  ended.  Sancho  Gonzales,  though 
he  might  have  remained  unmolested  in  Sonoma,  so 
far  at  least  as  his  late  enemies  were  concerned, 
chose  rather  to  betake  himself  and  his  disappoint 
ments  to  Mexico.  With  him  went  Pablo  Estrada 
and  a  few  others  of  those  who  could  well  be 
spared,  and  their  departure  removed  whatever 
chance  might  otherwise  have  existed  of  a  renewal 
of  hostilities.  Of  this,  however,  the  likelihood 
would  in  any  case  have  been  slight.  Commandant 
Vallejo,  genial  as  brave,  the  extreme  smallness 
of  whose  military  following  had  rendered  impos 
sible  anything  like  forcible  efforts  to  suppress  the 
disorders  involving  so  many  powerful  families, 
now  eagerly  seized  the  opportunity  afforded  him. 
Accompanied  by  his  wife,  the  beautiful  Benicia, 
sister  of  the  Carillos,  he  made  a  state  progress 
from  rancho  to  rancho  in  the  lately  disturbed 
district,  everywhere  being  received  with  the  re 
spect  and  honor  due  his  official  position  and  his 
high  personal  qualities.  The  late  enemies  again 
became  rivals,  but  only  in  determining  which  could 
do  most  to  efface  the  memory  of  the  lawlessness 


264    THE  NINE  SWORDS  OF  MORALES 

that  had  passed.  Foremost  in  such  efforts,  as  was, 
indeed,  but  fitting  in  one  who  had  been  the  chief 
offender,  was  Ramon  Gonzales.  In  all  that  he 
did  he  was  seconded  earnestly  by  his  wife,  still 
"Pancka  the  Beautiful,"  but  in  whose  strangely 
softening  disposition  he  began  at  last  to  see 
ground  for  a  hope  which  sometimes  seemed  almost 
to  drive  him  mad  with  happiness.  Willingly  and 
generously,  in  his  changed  spirit,  he  made  such 
reparation  as  was  possible  to  those  who  had  suf 
fered  in  the  raids  of  which  he  had  been  the  original 
instigator,  using  to  this  end  the  wealth  that  was 
his  so  lavishly  that  even  his  late  opponents  were 
moved  to  urge  him  to  moderation.  For  the  rest, 
there  was  no  room  for  malice  in  the  hearts  of 
either  Manuel  or  Francisco,  while  Diego  Morales' 
eight  great  brothers  gave  to  Juanita,  from  the 
moment  she  became  their  sister,  a  love  so  true  and 
chivalrous  as  swept  from  her  kinsmen's  minds, 
at  once  and  forever,  the  last  lingering  traces  of 
enmity. 

Then  once  more  the  caballeros  of  valley  and 
plain  rode  abroad  as  they  listed,  free  and  un 
challenged.  Once  more  spur-bells  and  bridle- 
chains  jingled  merrily  as  of  old,  stripped  of  the 
muffling  cords  of  buckskin.  Once  more  every  home 
was  an  open  hostel,  every  wayfarer  an  honored 
guest  who  came  and  went  unquestioned.  And  once 
more,  everywhere  throughout  the  length  and 
breadth  of  beautiful  Sonoma,  was  brotherhood  and 
peace. 

THE  END 


908940 


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